


Chorus Mortem

by moonfleur



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Death, Guns, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Torture, maybe johnil if you squint, some jaewin, some yujae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-15 17:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/moonfleur
Summary: The clock ticks, the sands fall, the seasons turn, but Jaehyun remains. And all the while, Death draws closer.





	1. The First Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my entry to NCT Spookfest ☠︎
> 
> Before you start, I just want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to the only person I could scream at about this fic (because I was trying to keep this a secret but that's too hard for me xP), my one and only adopted daughter [aeterna_nox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeterna_nox). Thank you for being the sole beta for this long-ass fic and for sitting through all my stress rants. I love you ❤︎
> 
> The theme day for this fic is 'Curses' but I guess it is kind of loosely interpreted for this fic. I won't say anything else so I won't spoil it :) 
> 
> ****
> 
> **⚠︎ PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ⚠︎**
> 
> There is a small bit of explicit torture in the first section so if you're squeamish and not about that kind of violence, do skim through. That being said, this IS a Halloween fest fic, so do expect some things to be less than savoury (although aside from that I don't think there is any). Anyways, that is all I want to say for now. There will be (way) more in the end notes. Thank you in advance for reading!♡
> 
> PS. Title means 'dance with death' in latin ;)
> 
> PPS. This has now been translated into Vietnamese! Thank you to @ntphuongnhi0412 on twitter ♥︎ You can find the translation [here](http://my.w.tt/NVuaP8oIY5)! 

* * *

**_Seoul, Korea - 1891_ **

Jaehyun slams a fist down hard on the already-unstable metal table, the only thing that stands in between him and one Li Zhengting, the ex-secretary to the Chinese Minister for Foreign Affairs. To his credit, the guy barely flinches, choosing to glare out from under where his sweat-soaked hair had fallen over his eyes. The singular bulb that hangs low over their heads flickers slightly, casting ominous shadows on the musty damp-stained walls of the room they’re in. Although, ‘room’ would be too much of an overstatement when it barely spans more than three meters long and is half as narrow. 

Jaehyun withdraws his hand, ignoring the dull ache that had started to spread from where it had made contact with the table. “Speak! For fuck’s sake.” He growls, running a hand through his hair with so much force he rips out a few strands. “We know you were at the meeting with the Foreign Minister. We know they plan on retaking control. We just need to know _ how _!” He rounds on the man, who’s been handcuffed to the chair, and grabs a fistful of his shirt, tugging him closer. Jaehyun looks into his eyes, unwavering as if he can look into the man’s mind and glean the answers from them alone. Li Zhengting stares resolutely back at him, the only sign of his nervousness is the sweat that hasn’t stopped breaking across his brow, which has also begun to seep into the collar of his, very expensive, shirt. 

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow at the other man’s stubbornness. “Listen, you prick.” He snarls. “If you tell me whatever you know, right now, we won’t have to send you through that metal door you saw on your way in. Trust me, you do _ not _ want to know what is waiting for you behind that door.” 

The man says nothing, remains completely immobile and almost limp in Jaehyun’s hands and he has to suppress the urge to throttle the guy as he shoves him back in his seat. Just as he lets go of Zhengting’s shirt, a sharp, searing pain rips through his forearm and it takes all of his willpower to not cry out. Feigning anger, he turns away from the ex-secretary and storms out of the room, slamming the door for good measure. 

Cradling his offending arm in the other, he collapses against the wall beside the door, teeth gritted against the pain that was showing no signs of subsiding. “What the fuck?” He hisses as he slumps to the ground, holding onto it as if in fear that it will come loose at the elbow and fall right off. He rips the sleeve of his shirt back revealing what looks like someone had taken a hot iron poker and pressed it against the skin of his forearm. He can barely see in the dim light of the corridor but he’s sure that his skin is smoking in some places, those that haven’t already cauterised and started scarring. He presses a finger to it gently and winces as it stings.

Pushing himself forward, he crawls awkwardly on his uninjured arm towards the singular bulb that’s lighting up the corridor so that he can get a clearer look at the state of his forearm. “What the hell is going on?” is all he can say when he finally gets a proper look. Under the light, he can finally see that what he’d originally mistaken for strange patterns was actually numbers - 3 sets of numbers, in fact, almost like a date. But it isn’t the date, because as soon as he gets a clear look of the 002400 that now adorns his right forearm, it changes. There’s a slight tingle across his skin and he sees some of his skin stitch back together, even as more burn away, to reveal a 002359 instead. It’s time, he realises after a few more minutes of watching the numbers shift on his arm, and it is clearly counting down to something. He just doesn’t know _what_. _ This is just great_, he thinks to himself, _ just what I need. More shit to think about. _

Groaning, he lowers his head into his hands, palms pressing against his eyes as though he can press the memory of what had just happened out of his mind. That’s how his handler finds him some minutes later, sitting on the ground in the middle of their building’s dimly lit basement corridor with his head in his hands. He doesn’t even hear the footfalls, so caught up in his thoughts that he startles violently when the bigger man places a gentle hand on his shoulder. His hand is halfway to his revolver when he realises who it is and settles back down, hand tugging swiftly at his sleeve to hide the markings.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny. Don’t sneak up on a man like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” He mumbles grumpily as Johnny kneels down beside him.

“You know I don’t ‘sneak’ Jaehyun,” Johnny laughs. “That’s your job. Besides, I wasn’t exactly quiet coming down those stairs. What’s got you so in your head that you didn’t even hear me coming?”

Jaehyun frowns at his words because Johnny is right, he may be his handler but Johnny is probably the least stealthy person on the face of the earth. If he hadn’t heard him coming then he must be more bothered than he thought. Johnny can’t know that though, the last thing he needs is to be removed from this mission, not now when he needs as many jobs as he can get. So he plasters on a grin, as reassuring as he can make it considering the situation. “It’s nothing. Just tired.” He nods his head back towards the door of the interrogation room. “That guy isn’t cracking and we’ve had him in there for a good six hours now.”

Johnny looks past him to frown at the door holding Li Zhengting. “You think it’s time to throw him in the tin can?”

“Nah,” Jaehyun shakes his head. “Let’s give him a couple more hours with someone else, maybe Ten since he’s good at cracking the tough nuts. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll put him in the can.” 

Johnny looks back at him with something akin to suspicion in his eyes. “You’re sounding a little eager there, you sure you’re alright?”

Jaehyun just smiles, patting Johnny on the shoulder. “I’m good. Just frustrated.”

“Well, that’s what we have punching bags in the gym for,” Johnny remarks dryly. “Go sweat it out. Because if you kill the guy later, that’s on you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jaehyun snorts but throws Johnny a smile anyway as he pushes himself up off the floor, dusting his hands on his pants. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Johnny rolls his eyes but smiles back, clapping him once on the shoulder before heading in the direction of the interrogation room. Jaehyun’s smile disappears the minute Johnny’s back is turned and he glances down at his arm once more before he makes his way up the stairs.

☠︎

The sound of a door slamming open rouses Jaehyun from a fitful sleep. One he had fallen into following a particularly long and arduous session with the sandbags in the gymnasium following that talk with Johnny. Blinking his eyes open blearily, he’s greeted by a figure stalking towards him in the darkness of the shared bunk room the active agents share. Even silhouetted against the pale light of the corridor that’s leaking into the room through the open door, features completely indiscernible, Jaehyun knows who it is almost immediately.

“Yuta.” He grunts, pushing himself into a sitting position. The metal frame of the bed he’s lying on creaks in protest and Jaehyun winces at the sound. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Yuta crows, seating himself beside Jaehyun and Jaehyun can practically hear the grin in his voice. He groans as he feels Yuta wrap his arms around his waist, shaking him gently even as he rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulders.

“Get off me, Yuta.” He grumbles, trying but failing to shove the other man off him with his still sleep-afflicted limbs. “What do you want?”

Yuta hums and tightens his grip, squeezing just enough to make it difficult to breathe. “You,” he whispers, breath warm against Jaehyun’s ear. Jaehyun feels heat rush to his face but he elbows Yuta in the ribs anyway, hard enough to make him relinquish is death grip around Jaehyun’s middle with a splutter.

“Fuck off, Yuta. If you woke me up just to fool around, I’m going to be very annoyed.”

“You sure are awfully cranky when you wake up,” Yuta observes, mouth curved into a Cheshire grin, even as he rubs at the spot where Jaehyun’s elbow had made contact. “But no,” he continues, “unfortunately, that is not what I’m here for.”

Jaehyun frowns at him. “What is it?”

“We’ve received an update on the situation. Chief wants us in the briefing room in an hour.” 

Jaehyun’s frown deepens as he moves to stand up, throwing the horribly scratchy standard-issue woollen blanket off him. “You couldn’t have led with that?

Yuta shrugs. “We had time.” He pauses, eyeing Jaehyun’s now-exposed bare chest and his lips curve into a sly smile. “We _ still _ have time.”

Jaehyun groans, grabbing the blanket he’d just discarded and upending it over Yuta’s head before grabbing him by the shoulders and marching him out of the room. “_ No _, Yuta. Please go away.” Yuta pulls the blanket off his head as he gets shoved into the corridor, whirling around to give him a once-over before throwing him one last smile.

“Your loss.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes but he feels a smile start to form on his face anyway. Just as he’s about to head back into the room, something catches Yuta’s eyes and he grabs Jaehyun’s arm. Jaehyun stiffens and tries to pull away but Yuta is too strong for him and he twists his arm around so that he can get a good look at the markings on his forearm. “What is this?” He asks, eyes not moving from where they’re fixed on Jaehyun’s arm.

Jaehyun flinches and he looks away, wanting to look at neither Yuta nor the weird numbers on his arm. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

Yuta’s head whips up to look at him. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Jaehyun turns back to him, sharp retort ready on his tongue when he sees the concern and fear in Yuta’s eyes, so he swallows it back down and takes a deep breath instead. He places his other hand over Yuta’s where it’s still holding on to his wrist. “It just means that I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out, okay? Don’t worry about it.” He tries to offer up a smile but it never quite reaches his eyes and Yuta frowns at him. He opens his mouth to say something but it is at that moment that one of the numbers shifts and Yuta, seeing it, yelps and drops his arm like he’s been burnt.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, his already huge eyes are saucers as they look up at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun sighs and closes his eyes, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know right? It’s some kind of… countdown… or something. But as for what it’s counting down to, your guess is as good as mine.” There is silence for a few minutes as he lets Yuta process the information, his eyes only opening when he feels fingers prod against the skin on his forearm. Yuta is looking between him and the numbers, frowning slightly.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, even as he continues to examine the raw-red skin, and Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Not anymore. It hurt like a bitch when it first appeared last night though.” He grimaces, remembering the way it had felt like his whole arm was on fire.

Yuta finally stops his ministrations, folding his arms against his chest as he surveys Jaehyun with an ever-deepening frown. “Looks like the only way to find out is to let it hit 0.” Jaehyun feels something cold trickle down his spine at Yuta’s words and he suppresses a shiver. 

“Yeah, looks like it.” This just makes Yuta frown even more so Jaehyun moves to place what he hopes is a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about this alright? I’ll figure this out. We’ve got other things to worry about right now. Bigger things.”

Yuta jolts as if he’d been shocked, shaking his head to clear it. “Right. Bigger things. Shit.” He grimaces and Jaehyun’s hand on his shoulder tightens. Yuta turns his gaze back to him then. “You better tell me what happens when it hits zero though, okay?”

Jaehyun nods and this time when he smiles it reaches his eyes. “You got it.”

After Yuta leaves, Jaehyun heads back into the room to grab a change of clothes, more specifically a shirt, out of the duffel bag he keeps under the bed he usually sleeps on. Slipping the shirt on, he collapses back onto the bed. He can barely make out the numbers on his arm in the darkness of the room but he doesn’t need to - the 001157 glares back at him, the red standing out in the near blackness. Less than 12 hours now. Sighing, he tugs his shirt sleeves down and makes his way out of the room.

When Jaehyun reaches the briefing room it is a flurry of activity. People move in and out, some of them carrying manila folders stuffed to the brim with documents, others with nothing more than slips of paper and knitted brows. Jaehyun spots Johnny at the other end of the wooden table that’s taken up the entirety of the room, it’s polished dark wood surface still gleaming despite being half covered in pieces of paper and several maps. Johnny is talking to a man who, despite being significantly smaller than Johnny, seems to fill the entire room with his presence. They’re bent over several open folders that have been spread out on their end of the table, and Jaehyun takes note of the surveillance photographs that have been attached to what must be profiles of people.

Jaehyun weaves through the crowd of people depositing documents and comes to a stop beside Johnny. Both men stop their discussion to turn toward him and Jaehyun nods in greeting. “Johnny. Chief Moon. I heard there’ve been developments.”

They both incline their heads in greeting, Johnny clamping a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder and offering what can only be classified as a wry smile. “Yeah. It seems like the Chinese have made their move. Or rather _ a _ move.” He scratches his head and makes a face. “We still aren’t sure at this point, if we’re being honest, but I’ll let the Chief explain properly when Yuta gets here.”

Jaehyun frowns, crossing his arms and leaning against the edge of the table, as he takes in Johnny’s words. “I’m assuming this means Zhengting still hasn’t talked.”

Johnny shakes his head, brows knitting together, a mirror of Jaehyun’s expression. “Not a peep, persistent little shit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jaehyun mutters, sweeping a hand through his hair. “I was hoping we wouldn’t actually have to do this the hard way.”

Johnny snorts, half a laugh rising out of him. “You can’t fool me, Jae. I know you’ve been itching to get your hands on him since he was brought in.”

Jaehyun’s lips twitch up into a half-smile as he turns to meet Johnny’s gaze. “Okay, half of me was hoping,” and Johnny rolls his eyes turning back to the documents on the table. 

“Just don’t get carried away,” he warns, but Jaehyun just laughs, slinging an arm casually around Johnny’s shoulders as he turns back to the table too.

Yuta enters just as Jaehyun turns around, and catches his gaze, his usually unruly mop of hair pulled back into a small ponytail. Jaehyun dips his head in acknowledgement and beckons him over. Yuta surveys the room for a brief moment before stepping around a girl, careful to avoid the towering stack of folders in her arms, as he heads towards them. He gives Jaehyun’s hip a small pat as he walks around them to stand beside Taeil, winking at Jaehyun when he whips his head around to glower at him. Jaehyun just shakes his head and turns back to the folders in front of him.

Yuta exchanges a few words with the Chief before the latter straightens up and clears his throat causing the people scattered about the room to snap to attention. He nods once and suddenly the room is empty, every last one of the ten-odd people having departed so fast Jaehyun barely saw them leave. The only thing that he had registered was the sound of the door swinging shut and then they were alone. Jaehyun raises a questioning eyebrow at Johnny who had also looked up from the documents at the sound but he just shrugs before turning back towards Chief Moon. 

The Chief clears his throat once more for good measure before turning towards them and Jaehyun doesn’t miss the darkening shadows under his eyes and creases between his brows that look like they’ve been permanently etched there. Not to mention the five-o-clock shadow that’s looking more and more like a five-o-clock-in-the-morning-the-following-day shadow. If his appearance is any indication of what he’s going to say then Jaehyun can safely say that he’s not looking forward to it.

The Chief opens his mouth and Jaehyun winces at how it sounds like he simultaneously hasn’t spoken in days and yet has also spoken too much. “As you all know,” he starts, “I’ve called you here because we have a situation.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, before continuing. “We have footage of some Chinese delegates entering Korea, people known to be extremely loyal to the Chinese government. One of whom happens to be a lackey of the Chinese Foreign Affairs Minister.” Jaehyun frowns, confused because technically they _ are _allowed entry into Korea. There is no reason why this should be a big deal. 

The Chief must have noticed the expression on his face because he continues. “This is an issue because they have arrived in Korea under false identities.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen and on the other side of the Chief, he sees Yuta openly baulk. “Yes, all of them have arrived in Korea with fake _ Korean _ passports and identities. We don’t know what this means but it cannot be anything good. They’re definitely up to something.” He closes his eyes briefly, brows furrowing together before he opens them again and directs a piercing gaze at all of them. 

“You need to do whatever it takes to get information out of Zhengting. There is no one else we can get our hands on at the moment and we need to find out what they’re up to _ now _.” The Chief turns towards him. “Jaehyun, I’m leaving this to you and Yuta. I don’t care what you do, just get it done.” Jaehyun nods his understanding, gaze unrelenting as he meets the Chief’s eyes. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He’s given nothing but a weary smile in return before the Chief redirects his attention towards Johnny. “Johnny, we need a team on the ground. Talk to the handlers and see if any of them have agents to spare. I don’t want the delegates out of our sight at all.”

“Sir,” Johnny responds with a nod and the Chief returns it with one of his own before he turns away from there. Weariness clings to his frame and even Jaehyun can tell that he’s barely holding himself up. Jaehyun is just about to say something but he feels a hand come down on his shoulder and he looks up to find Johnny shaking his head at him. _ I got this _, he mouths and Jaehyun frowns, wanting to protest, but he feels a hand close around his wrist and he’s being pulled towards the exit. The last thing he sees before the doors close behind him is Johnny pressing a steaming cup into the Chief’s hands as he steers him into one of the chairs.

☠︎

Hours later, Jaehyun and Yuta have Zhengting cuffed to a chain hanging from the ceiling in the middle of a windowless room whose walls are made of slowly corroding metal. The stench of iron fills the air and Jaehyun no longer knows if it’s coming from the walls or the blood that’s running in rivulets down the Chinese man’s body. Jaehyun stares at the man hanging in front of him, almost completely unrecognisable from the one he had been interrogating in the cell the previous day. Where the Zhengting of yesterday had looked the part of the politician he was, he now looked like he had come out the wrong end of a street fight. Blood spills from his mouth, which is missing quite a number of teeth, as well as from a particularly large gash above his right eye. His left eye is almost swollen shut, although his right eye isn’t really in better shape. His expensive shirt lies in strips on the ground below him and lacerations adorn his chest and back alongside a good smattering of bruises. 

Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, Jaehyun reaches for one of the other instruments currently laid out on the rickety metal table beside him. As it is, he and Yuta have gone through half the selection of tools and Zhengting is yet to speak. Suffice it to say that they are both frustrated, although a small part of Jaehyun can’t help but be impressed with how well the politician is holding out. Unfortunately for the guy, the Chief had asked them to get it done and Jaehyun isn’t afraid of doing what needs to be done for a successful mission.

He picks up a thin sliver of metal, double the size of a needle with ends that have been filed to perfect points. He twirls it between his fingers as he turns to face Zhengting, eyes locked onto the Chinese man’s as he allows a calculated smile to spread across his face. He walks up to him deliberately slow, occasionally twirling the stick of metal so that it catches the light of the dim lamps they have trained on the prisoner. Coming to a stop right in front of the man, Jaehyun reaches out to grab the man by his jaw, his grip like a vice as he squeezes hard. 

“I’ll give you one more chance,” he hisses between gritted teeth, his face mere millimetres from the other man’s. “Tell me what your government is planning and I’ll no longer have a reason to use this.” He brings the metal stick in front of his face, it’s point gleaming menacingly in the low light, but Zhengting only glares at him through his one fairly good eye and remains silent. Jaehyun sighs dramatically, releasing him with a shove and watching as the man stumbles, held only in place but the cuffs around his wrists. Behind him, he hears Yuta move towards the table, followed by the clink of metal as he picks up what must be another metal stick. 

He feels more than sees Yuta come up beside him, the glint of metal discernible in his peripheral vision, and turns to look at him. He sees the question in Yuta’s eyes and nods an affirmative, small and barely noticeable, but Yuta gets the answer as he turns to face Zhengting as well. Together, almost as if they are one body, they step forward to grasp a hand each and slip the sticks in the space under his nail beds. Zhengting screams then - it’s the first time he’s made a sound louder than a grunt in the entirety of their session - and bucks wildly against the chains. Blood drips down his hand and tears stream down his face, intermingling with the blood that’s already started to harden, but he remains resolutely silent otherwise.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun snarls, backhanding him. “Just say something!” He feels heat rush to his face and his pulse is throbbing painfully in his temple. The heat of the room isn’t helping, he can feel it mould itself to him, hovering over him like a shroud causing sweat to drip down every single bit of exposed skin. Yuta is no better, his face is flushed from the heat and his hair is now slick with sweat, stray strands plastered down the side of his face. Zhengting coughs and spits, the blood pooling in his mouth now staining the floor, and then starts laughing. It is completely unhinged, somewhere in between maniacal and hysterical, and takes both Jaehyun and Yuta by surprise. They exchange a brief looking before returning their attention to the still-laughing politician. 

Jaehyun takes a step toward, ready to take ahold of him if he doesn’t show signs of stopping when the man directs quiets and directs a pointed gaze at him. “You guys are nothing,” he spits, the words coming out garbled as he tries to form them around missing teeth and the blood collecting in his mouth. “What you do to me here I will receive ten-fold if I betray my country. I will never talk.”

Growling, Jaehyun hits him again. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that when we’re done with you.” He reaches for the metal sticks once more, handing one to Yuta, who he’s surprised hasn’t said anything during this whole exchange. Yuta takes the stick from him wordlessly and, not bothering to wait for him this time, slides it slowly under another nail. Zhengting screams again, pulling on the chains like he’s trying to separate his body from the pain in his hand. While he’s still screaming, Jaehyun walks up and slips his stick home under another nail too.

Zhengting is uncontrollable now as he screams and writhes against the chains, the sounds echoing painfully off the metal walls. Jaehyun watches on, waiting for the man to quieten so he can try asking him again, but he doesn’t stop. He screams and screams, pulling hard enough on the chains that they’ve begun to draw blood, and still, he continues. All of a sudden, his screams choke off and Jaehyun can’t do anything except watch as his eyes begin to roll back into his head and bloody froth starts to bubble from his mouth. His writhing becomes spasms as his body goes into what looks like some kind of shock.

His brain takes some time to catch up but when he realises what’s really happening, he lunges forward, hands fumbling in his pocket for the key to the cuffs. “Yuta!” He yells without taking his eyes off the still-spasming figure. “Get his other cuff!” Yuta, who had been standing just as stunned as he had been, surges into motion, the sound of his voice snapping him out of his daze.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jaehyun is muttering to himself as he stabs the key violently into the lock and twists, the cuffs snapping open with a dull click. On the other side, Yuta has unlocked the cuff, and Jaehyun catches Zhengting before he can fall completely to the floor. Jaehyun looks up at Yuta and he sees the same panic he’s feeling mirrored in Yuta’s eyes. He’s about to tell Yuta to grab someone from the medical team when Zhengting stills completely and Jaehyun freezes, afraid to look at the body in his arms, afraid to confirm that they might have lost their only lead. That _ he _ might have lost then their only lead. Yuta is looking at him like he’s seen a ghost, his face so ashen it’s almost gray, and Jaehyun can see him trembling slightly even though Jaehyun is the one with a person in his arms.

“Is he…?” Jaehyun breathes out, shaky, eyes fixed only on Yuta. When Yuta nods it feels like all the strength has been ripped from his body, his legs give way and the only thing that prevents him from crashing into the ground is Yuta’s arm around him. Yuta lowers them both gently to the ground, gently prying Jaehyun’s arms away from Zhengting’s body. But, just as Yuta’s hand closes around his wrist, he feels a sharp stinging sensation along his right forearm. Hissing, he wrenches his arm away from Yuta’s. Tugging the sleeve back reveals an angry red welt, right under the original numbers, which now read 000215. Before he can take a closer look, Yuta is reaching for his arm and bringing it up to his eyes.

“It says plus one eight two, with four zeros after it,” Yuta reads, voice both soft and yet jarring to Jaehyun’s ears that he to struggle not to flinch when it breaks the silence that surrounds them. “It looks like it’s in the same format as the bigger ones.”

Jaehyun turns to survey the markings too, wincing as the movement tugs at the still-raw skin. “The same format,” he mumbles, not really a question but not really a statement either. “So, if those 4 digits represent hours and minutes, then this number represents…” he trails off, frowning, before perking up again. “Do these digits represent the days then?”

Yuta looks at him incredulously, “How am I supposed to know? They’re _ your _ markings.”

Jaehyun only scowls and tugs his arm back out of Yuta’s grip. “I mean, does it at least make sense to you though?”

“I guess so,” Yuta answers slowly, eyes still trained on the markings on Jaehyun’s arm. “But there’s a plus sign too. So, if those are days, does this mean you’ll get an extra hundred and eighty-two days once the main one hits zero?”

“But for _ what_, exactly?” Jaehyun can hear the tremble in his voice as he asks, eyes searching Yuta’s as though they can give him the answer he needs. “We still don’t know what’s going to happen when this reaches zero. What if I blow up? Like a bomb.” His breath catches on the last word and Yuta reaches out instinctively to grasp his hand, thumb stroking gently over where it rests.

“You’re not going to blow up, you idiot.” Yuta laughs despite the weariness already tingeing his voice. “For all you know, it’s counting down to something good.”

Jaehyun doesn’t think so, he can feel it, like a stone that’s settled somewhere deep in his chest cavity, but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he just nods, offering up a wan smile to Yuta who smiles back and gives his hand an encouraging squeeze before releasing it. He pushes himself up off the floor with a grunt and inspects the state of the room.

“Well, you just stay here, for now, alright, Jae? I’ll get a team to come transport this guy to the med wing.” Yuta nods his head towards the corpse still lying at Jaehyun’s feet, redirecting his attention back to it. All at once, everything comes rushing back to him - Li Zhengting, the loss of a suspect, a suspect that _ he _ just killed - and suddenly he can’t breathe. He fucked up, holy shit, he fucked up. The whole operation is a mess now because of him and-

“Hey!” Yuta’s face comes swimming into view as he crouches down in front of him, anger creasing lines into his brow and Jaehyun blinks, trying to focus on him. “Stop that. I know what you’re thinking. _ None _of this was your fault, do you understand? Shit happens.”

Yuta’s hands are a vice on his shoulder, and Jaehyun is sure that he’s being shaken at some point but he can barely feel it, can barely feel anything past the cotton it feels like his mind has turned into. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to say, couldn’t say anything even if he did, so he just nods dumbly. He watches as the crease above Yuta’s brow deepens, as he opens his mouth to speak but Jaehyun can’t make out the words. He catches bits of it though, something about not wanting to leave him by himself before Yuta stands up and heads toward the exit, throwing one last concerned look Jaehyun’s way.

Jaehyun is only vaguely aware of what happens after, of the room flooding with light as various groups of people stream in, the sounds coming to him strangely muffled regardless of whether the person is standing beside or on the other side of the room. He only knows that the first group arrived to take Zhengting’s body away, but he doesn’t know who they were or what they looked like. Then the second group arrive and it’s Johnny and Chief Moon, flanked by a dozen or so other people, and their presence helps to bring everything into a somewhat clearer sort of focus. Somewhat, but not by much. It is, however, enough for him to feel the firm hands that grip him and guide him out of the room, back towards the living quarters. A voice tells him to wash up and get some rest, and then he’s alone.

Jaehyun sits in the room for what feels like forever but also no time at all, the fog in his mind sits heavily and he lets himself drift in it for as long as it takes for him to find his way back to himself. Only when he finally feels in control of his body again does he finally pick himself up off the bunk he had been placed in and head into the showers. 

By the time he returns to the living quarters, entire body scrubbed clean three times over to rid himself of the excess bodily fluids, there is only 15 minutes left on the timer on his arm. Jaehyun feels the weight return to his chest as he studies the timer, watching the 5 slowly fade and rebrand itself into a 4 on his skin. He sinks onto his usual bunk and buries his head in his hands. _ This is it _ , he thinks to himself, _ in just over 10 minutes, I’ll finally find out what the hell this thing is for. _ So he just sits there, unmoving, for the next few minutes - mind skimming over the endless probable outcomes that could occur when the timer hits zero. 

He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the chill descend around him until he shivers and it startles him so hard that his head shoots up out of his hands. He looks around cautiously, slightly unsettled, but is only greeted by an empty room. Two out of the other three walls taken up by bunk beds identical to the one he is sitting out while the furthest wall contains nothing except a notice board and a small chest of drawers. The room is lit up only by a singular bulb that sways occasionally despite the absence of a draft, casting the corners of the room into shadows that lengthen and shorten. 

It is from these shadows that a figure steps out just as the timer on Jaehyun’s wrist changes to a singular 2. The figure is swathed in the shadows it had stepped out, wearing the darkness around it like a kind of cowled robe. Jaehyun only notices it when it steps soundlessly out of the patch of darkness toward him and he freezes, blood turning to ice as it glides closer to him. He tries to move but finds himself completely rooted to his post. Inside his chest, his heart is hammering so hard he can feel it in his ears and he wants to scream but even his mouth is refusing to respond to his direction.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the figure speaks, voice clear and smooth as glass, and Jaehyun swears he can hear it resonate in his mind. “Your time is up. I have come to collect your soul and help guide it into the afterlife.” 

Jaehyun’s eyes widen at his words and he starts to struggle against the force that’s holding him in place, trying to do something, anything that will put distance between him and the figure. In the midst of his, mainly internal, struggle, his eyes land on the figures branded onto his forearm. He barely registers the row of zeros before it dawns on him, his _time _had run out, which means that the numbers must be his life timer - and it looks like he is fresh out of life. He looks back up at the figure, who had stopped just out of reach from him. _ But who or what the hell is this thing? _ Materialising out of nowhere looking like some kind of Grim Reaper, except without the scythe, and with an evidently much nicer voice than he was expecting. The figure directs what could pass for a gaze to him, head cocked slightly as though he had said those words aloud, before waving a smokey hand at him almost disinterestedly. 

Jaehyun feels his throat free up and he coughs, trying to clear it. “What are you?” he manages to croak out, voice rough from whatever the figure had done to it.

The figure sighs and Jaehyun can almost hear it roll its eyes, if it had any, obviously. “I am many things, but you humans know me as Death.”

“What?” the word comes out almost strangled. “Are you here to kill me?”

“Technically,” the figure begins, gliding even closer until Jaehyun is sure he can touch it if he reaches out. “You’re already dead. I’m just here to take you _ onward _.” 

Jaehyun baulks. “I’m dead?! I can’t be dead, there’s no way. I mean, I still feel alive.”

The figure, Death, crosses its arms and tilts its head, almost as if it were inspecting Jaehyun. “Hmmm, you are a tricky one though.” He pauses. “You’re right, you haven’t died, exactly, in the human sense of the word anyway. But your time _ is _ up, so I will have to take your soul with me today.”

“Fuck off,” he hisses. “You’re not having it.”

“I’m not asking,” Death counters, reaching a hand towards his chest, his heart. Above them, the light flickers, and suddenly Death is recoiling from him, his once outstretched hand cradled in the other as if he’d been burnt. “What the hell?!” 

At the same time, Jaehyun feels a little tingle spread over the surface of his forearm, and he looks down to see the +182 disappearing and then slowly materialising on the main counter, with four 0s coming after it.

“Oh my God,” Jaehyun whispers at the same time Death exclaims with a loud “What is _ that _?!” Jaehyun’s eyes dart to the figure who is still cradling its shadowy arm and feels the fear slowly seep out of him.

“I think, I may have gotten some extra days,” he directs towards the figure. 

Death swivels its head to him. “How?”

“I’m not sure exactly. You’re Death, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell me?”

He watches as Death sighs exasperatedly and begins pacing, or what could only be the gliding equivalent of pacing, along the length of the room and finds himself strangely amused by the whole situation. They remain in silence for a while until Death freezes mid-pace and slowly turns back to him. “You.” He accuses. “Did you kill anyone?”

“I...uh...what?” Jaehyun stammers out, flinching as if Death had taken the question and hit him in the head with it. 

“Did. You. Kill. Anyone?” Death repeats, enunciating each syllable with knife-like sharpness.

“I…” He pauses. “I think so.”

“You _ think _ so?”

“Alright fine, I killed someone. Happy?” Jaehyun responds, glaring angrily at the figure.

“No! I am, in fact, _ not _ happy!” Death glides to a halt in front of him and crosses his arms as he says so. “This means that you took some of his life span when you did. Now your soul is no longer up for collection today and I’ll have to wait another-” He grabs Jaehyun’s wrist and turns it over so that he can get a better look at the numbers, the sensation surprising Jaehyun. “-182 days.”

Jaehyun levels a withering look at the figure. “While I _ do _ sympathise with you, I am not going to be sorry that I’ve gained myself another 182 days to live.”

Death glowers (or what Jaehyun assumes is a glower, considering he can’t actually see its face) at him. “Well enjoy your extra 182 days then, Jung Jaehyun, because I will be coming back for you.”

Jaehyun smiles at it then, all teeth on display. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Death makes like it’s about to grab Jaehyun again but retracts its hand instead giving an annoyed huff before turning on its metaphorical heel and disappearing.

Jaehyun feels the hold on him finally release with Death’s disappearance and he allows himself to fall sideways onto the bunk. He feels the temperature of the room start to lift and he shivers, a small part of him still unsure that all of the day’s events had really happened. Had he really seen Death? Did he actually come face to face with Death and come out of it victorious? Or had that been some kind of fever dream that had manifested in his mind to cope with his less-than-stable mental state? He shakes his head and grabs the folded blanket at the end of the bed. He throws it over himself, burrowing under it as much as he can, as if the thin cotton material can really block out the dim glow of the light bulb. He’ll think about it later, he decides, before finally drifting off to sleep.

** _ Busan, South Korea - 1912 _ **

The bar is dark, the smell of sweat and alcohol hangs in the still, unfiltered air as people press in around him on all sides. Music blares from a jukebox somewhere, the sound echoing in the imbalanced acoustics of the little underground hole he had decided to bury himself in. Jaehyun looks down at his glass of scotch, his third one (or something like that) of the night, and sighs. He can feel the beginnings of a headache in the back of his head and he knows - with the way everything in the room seems to pulse and waver - that if he gets up off the stool he’s sitting on, he’s not going to be standing for very long. The feel of having so many bodies this close to him is, at once, both suffocating and liberating and he lets himself revel in the feeling.

He swirls his scotch and takes a gulp, grimacing at the aftertaste as it hits the back of his throat. Under his sleeve, his right forearm tingles, and he directs a pointed glare at it. He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to think about anything really, and he knows he is about halfway to the point of complete unfeeling. Maybe another scotch is what he needs. He downs the remainder of his glass and sets it on the already sticky wood of the bar counter. He looks up, ready to signal for the bartender, and jerks back when he sees that the person in question is already in front of him. The bartender smiles at him, eyelashes fluttering, as he clears Jaehyun’s empty glass. In the back of Jaehyun’s mind, a small part of him registers the man’s delicate features and thinks _ pretty _, so he smiles back and the creases around the bartender’s eyes crinkle even more.

“Can I get another?” he asks, gesturing to the glass and holding up a finger. The bar isn’t so loud that he’d needed to shout, but he knows that the sound of a voice doesn’t carry far in this environment.

The bartender nods, quirking a brow. “Bad day?” he returns, tentative, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and Jaehyun laughs - a sound that he chokes on halfway as he buries his head in his hands. 

“Try bad week,” he answers and his voice sounds strange to his ears, too high pitched, too _ strangled _. 

He feels someone place a gentle hand on his shoulder as a drink is slid in front of him - another scotch on the rocks, he realises - and he looks up to find the bartender looking at him with something akin to sympathy on his face. “This is on me, then.” 

Jaehyun smiles weakly back at him. “Thanks…” he trails off, a question.

“Sicheng,” the man answers with a warm smile. “And… uh… if you’d like company, I’m off in ten.”

The suggestion isn’t lost on him but he can feel the smile slide off his face, and he looks away. In front of him he feels, more than sees, Sicheng start to backpedal. He reaches for the rag he’d been cleaning the counter with the whole night and starts wringing it between his hands. “Uh… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… Not like that…” He stammers out, looking like he’s caught between wanting to run away and hit himself, and Jaehyun takes pity on him.

He reaches across the counter to pluck the rag out of Sicheng’s hands and places it gently down on the counter before placing a hand over Sicheng’s where it’s still hanging in mid-air. Sicheng’s eyes shoot up to meet his and he offers him the best smile he can muster for the moment. “It’s fine, Sicheng. Really.” He affirms when Sicheng furrows a brow at him. “Company would…” He feels his chest clench, but he swallows past the feeling. “Company would be nice,” he finishes, and Sicheng beams.

☠︎

That’s how Jaehyun finds himself, a couple more scotches later, pressed up against the cool tiled walls of a bathroom stall, Sicheng’s mouth at his neck as he sucks bruises into the skin. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, grip tightening on Sicheng’s hips, when Sicheng bites down exceptionally hard, and he can feel the man smile into his skin. Sicheng pulls away to look up at him, lips swollen and eyes glistening even in the darkened stall, and something flashes in Jaehyun’s mind - of someone else’s eyes, someone else’s lips. He pushes the images way as he leans down to capture Sicheng’s lips with his own and the smaller man moans into his mouth, hands coming up to tangle in his hair. 

Jaehyun’s hands rove over Sicheng’s body, slipping under the simple t-shirt he had on for bartending. He marvels in how solid Sicheng feels under him despite looking like he could keel over under a strong gust of wind, how he tenses every time Jaehyun licks into his mouth. So Jaehyun does it again, nipping at his lips for good measure and feels as Sicheng trembles under his hands. Smiling, Jaehyun flips them over so that Sicheng is the one pressed up against the wall and Jaehyun is the one mouthing along his jaw and down his neck. Sicheng is salty on his tongue from his shift but Jaehyun doesn’t mind, laps at his neck even, which makes Sicheng whine and arch up into him.

Jaehyun pulls away and Sicheng whines at the loss of contact, making Jaehyun laugh. The smaller man looks up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes already glazing over, with a pout forming on his kiss-swollen lips. “Why’d you stop,” he half-pants, half whines.

Jaehyun leans forward to graze the shell of his ear with his lips and he hears Sicheng gasp in response. “Cause I know you like me on your neck,” he murmurs, smiling when he feels Sicheng shudder beneath him. 

Sicheng twists so that he has better access to Jaehyun’s lips. “So do you,” he whispers against them before kissing him again. He lets Jaehyun kiss him back for a while before he pulls back again, but only just enough that he can speak. “Feeling better?” He asks with a smile so shy, it was almost as if he hadn’t had his tongue down Jaehyun’s throat just seconds ago.

“Mmm,” Jaehyun hums against his lips as he presses into him, hand dipping between them to reach for his belt. “Maybe if you take this off.”

He doesn’t miss the way Sicheng’s breath hitches as he brushes against him making his eyes snap open and his hands tighten in his hair. “Please,” he whispers and pulls Jaehyun back down to him. The word stokes a fire he didn’t know he had in him, sets his skin alight, and he bites into the kiss with a new-found ferocity. He tastes salt and iron on his tongue but Sicheng moans louder so he continues. Sicheng’s hands are a mess in his hair while he fumbles with the belt, cursing the alcohol for his lack of coordination when it doesn’t come undone. 

It is only when he pulls the belt free does he notice that the numbness in his fingers isn’t only due to the alcohol, and the shivers running down his back aren’t from the press of Sicheng’s leg between his. He breaks from the kiss and sees his breath come out in a cloud before him. “Fuck,” he groans, long and exaggerated, dropping his head onto a very confused Sicheng’s shoulder. 

“What?” He asks carefully, still sounding obscenely out of breath, hands still hooked gently around Jaehyun’s neck. He strokes the back of Jaehyun’s neck absently and Jaehyun sighs, sinking further into Sicheng’s shoulder. 

“I think you should go, Sicheng,” he mumbles into the other man’s shoulder. 

Sicheng freezes, hand mid-stroke through Jaehyun’s hair. “What do you mean? Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

Jaehyun pulls back to look at him when he hears the worry in his voice, and frowns when he sees it mirrored on Sicheng’s face. “No, no,” he reassures quickly, hands rising to cup Sicheng’s face as he plants a quick kiss on his forehead. “No, you were… you were great. Really. It’s just,” he exhales. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry.”

He watches as Sicheng’s brow furrows, but he nods in understanding, reaching for the belt still clasped loosely in Jaehyun’s hand. It’s silent as Sicheng slips the belt back on and runs a hair through his hair in an attempt to make himself look a little less debauched. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do so he does the same, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out so that it falls more naturally. He startles a bit when Sicheng reaches out to smooth away the stray strands and tugs at the creases in his shirt. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, looking away but Sicheng just laughs, light and pretty, like he is. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he unlocks the door to the stall and steps out into the bathroom. He turns back to Jaehyun then, and places a hand gently on his cheek. “Whatever it is you’re going through, I hope it gets better. And if you ever need me, I’ll always be here.” He gives Jaehyun a parting wink before he slips out of the bathroom.

Jaehyun waits for the door to click shut before locking it and dragging himself over to the sinks. He turns on the tap and catches his reflection in the mirror, his hair is still a mess and he can see bruises blossoming down his neck, the purple made to look even darker in the bathroom’s lamplight. He presses a finger to one of them and winces at the pain. Sighing, he turns the tap on and splashes water on his face, the iciness of the water shocking him back to himself. 

Gingerly, he reaches for the sleeve of his right arm and pulls it back. Six zeroes stare back at him, the outlines as red as the day he’d gotten them. They’d never healed and the discomfort of the shifting numbers had never really gone away, but he’d gotten used to the feeling over the last 20 years. He glances up again, this time looking past his reflection at the stall he and Sicheng had been in earlier.

“I know you’re there,” he says, to nothing in particular. “I felt that horrible chill you always bring.”

At first, nothing seems to happen, but Jaehyun knows better. He crosses his arms and turns to face the stalls directly, a scowl perfectly settled on his face, foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Sure enough, a shadowy figure materialises from the emptiness of the stall and Jaehyun’s scowl deepens.

“You really couldn’t wait til after?” He mutters angrily and Death just laughs, clear voice too melodic to suit the menace of the shadowed figure it belongs to.

“I have a schedule to keep,” Death replies. “You, on the other hand, have a timer that could have told you when I’d be here. I even tried to remind you.”

Jaehyun thinks back to the random tingles he’d been feeling along his forearm all night and his jaw falls open. “You!” He accuses, finger pointing directly at the figure, who had drifted out of the stall and is now standing just a few feet from him. “You’re the reason my arm’s been feeling weird all night.”

Death shrugs non-committedly, shadows swirling at the movement. “I could see this happening, I just wanted to give you enough time to… you know.”

Even though it’s face is shrouded, Jaehyun can hear the smirk in its voice and he has a comeback ready but he feels deflated all of a sudden, the fight in him bleeding away. He can feel everything he’d been trying to run from creep up on him again now that Sicheng is gone, the tendrils of thought worming their way back to the forefront of his mind. The biting remark he had dissolves on his tongue and he sighs instead, settling back against the sinks, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You know what,” he begins, eyes falling shut. “Here.” He stretches out his right arm and pulls his sleeve back, displaying the digits on his skin there. “I still have a few more years to add to my life span so… You’re not getting me today either. You don’t have to stick around.”

He hears a sound, feels the air currents around him swirl and then a hand is closing around his wrist and tugging his sleeve down. His eyes shoot open and he looks at his wrist, half-expecting to find an actual hand wrapped around it, but all he sees is shadow. It feels real though, he can feel every single finger pressed into the skin of his wrist, and yet when he looks, he doesn’t see more than the black swirl of shadow. It’s strange and makes his hair stand on end, so he slowly tries to extricated his hand from Death’s grip but Death has a firm hold on him. 

“What are you-?” His words get cut off when Death gives his wrist an extra tug and suddenly he’s standing on a beach, more specifically Gwangalli Beach, at 3am in the morning. His insides feel a little like they’ve been run through a blender and, he’s not going to lie, the world is definitely spinning faster than it’s supposed to. Death seems to notice this because he holds out his other to steady him, which just makes everything a lot stranger for Jaehyun so he spends the next few minutes just breathing until the nausea subsides enough for him to speak. 

“Hey,” he croaks out. “Whatever that was, could you please not do that while I’m five drinks in?” 

At his words, the figure flinches and drops his arms. “Sorry! Shit! I didn’t think. Hold on, give me a second.” He waves an arm at Jaehyun and the nausea is gone, along with the alcohol, and yet he can still feel the throbbing in his head, feels even more the ache in his chest. 

“What the hell?” he breathes out, looking down at himself and then looking back at the figure. “Why did you bring me here anyway?” 

Death scratches the back of its head, an action so strangely human that it makes Jaehyun smile a little. “You looked like you could do with some fresh air. And maybe a walk.” 

Jaehyun’s expression darkens as the thoughts that he has been trying to bury the whole night threaten to resurface. They’re clawing at the seams in his mind, begging to be let out, but he’s not ready to face them. Doesn’t want to face them. So he turns away from Death, choosing instead to look out at the pitch-black water, counting each and every time it breaks onto the pristine shoreline. Only when he reaches thirty does he speak again. 

“What makes you think you know what I want?” He asks, voice low. 

“I never said I knew what you wanted. But I know what you need.” Jaehyun looks over at it then, eyes hard and expression unreadable, but doesn’t say anything else, so it continues. “I know something happened to you, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I think a walk will help.” The figure holds out a shadowy hand. “What do you say, hm? Just walk with me.”

Jaehyun studies the shadowy appendage for a while before he nods, and takes Death’s hand. However, when Death makes to move off, it is stopped by an unmoving Jaehyun who is looking at it and then back down to their linked hands and frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

Jaehyun looks back up at him. “Do you happen to have a more… human form? Only cause it’s a little, uh, unsettling for me having you look like, literal, Death.” 

The shadowed figure lets out a small laugh at Jaehyun’s expression. “Of course. I usually take the form that is most comforting to the soul I’m meeting, but there is one that I call my own.” He waves a hand and it is like the shadows dissipate, revealing a young man who looks to be around the same age as Jaehyun. Or rather the age Jaehyun’s body looks like, which would make him around 25. He is fair, and distinctly Korean, with features almost as delicate as Sicheng’s had been but just they had just a touch more hardness about them. Large, almond-shaped eyes looked back at him, giving him the vague impression of a slightly startled rabbit. 

Jaehyun baulks at the transformation, dropping his hand like it had burnt him and stumbling backwards a few steps. 

“Are you saying,” he chokes out as he steadies himself, “that you could have looked like that but you decided to come to me looking like some _ phantom _?!” 

The boy levels a pointed gaze at him. “Would you have taken me seriously, if I had come to you like this?” 

“Okay, probably not. But, _ fuck_, anything would have been better than…” he trails off, waving a hand in the Death’s direction, who scowls at him. 

“For your information,” Death begins, taking a step towards him. “That is my _ true _ form, and you should be grateful you got to see it.” Cutting a very much imposing figure despite being just a bit smaller than Jaehyun.

Jaehyun shrinks back as Death approaches him, suddenly reminded all too clearly who he’s talking to. “Sorry, I take it back.” He mumbles, trying hard to not look at the man standing before him. 

“Good,” he huffs before his gaze softens and he extends a proper human hand this time. “Let’s go?”

Jaehyun can’t explain why but he feels his chest tighten, just a bit, at the look Death gives him, but he ignores it and takes a hold of his hand. 

They had just taken a few steps down the beachside path when Jaehyun stops again, jerking the other man back with a tug. “What do I call you? I mean, I know you’re Death, but…” He trails off, looking at the Death questioningly. 

Death frowns at him for a second, deliberating, before he finally speaks. “Doyoung,” he replies. “You can call me Doyoung.” 

“Doyoung,” he repeats, tasting the word on his tongue. “Okay, Doyoung it is.”

☠︎

They walk in silence for a long while, hand-in-hand along the beach where the only sounds that Jaehyun can hear is the sound of the water lapping at the sand and the sound of his own breathing. There is no one else around except for them and, behind them, the city of Busan sleeps soundly. 

Doyoung leads them off the path at one point and onto the beach, the sand is strangely warm against Jaehyun’s toes despite it being the start of fall and he stops to wriggle his toes in it for a while. He watches the way the sand falls between them, too light to remain on top of his feet, and thinks about how it looks like the sand in an hourglass. An hourglass, he thinks, to represent the one thing he doesn’t have enough of, but if he wants to, also more than enough. He thinks about the number on his arm and how he wishes that it were transferable sometimes. Sighing deeply, he starts walking again, and Doyoung close beside him.

They stop when they get to a small outcropping of rock that looks like it’s been grown out of the sand, edges jutting out from the beach and stretching to the water. There’s a relatively flat piece that lies just above the water line and that is where Doyoung leads them to, hands gripping Jaehyun’s tightly as the climb over small slabs to get it.

When they get to the edge, Doyoung tugs him down to sit on the rocky surface and Jaehyun complies. They sit there for a while, just letting the sound of the waves and the wind wash over them in the near-inky darkness. Jaehyun isn’t even sure what time it is anymore, but he finds that he doesn’t really care. The sky is so clear that he can pinpoint every known constellation, can even see them reflected on the glassy surface of the water. He releases Doyoung’s hand so he can lean back on his own, eyes falling shut as he lets the sea wash a sense of calm he hasn’t felt in a long while over him.

It is a while before Jaehyun speaks again, and when he does it is barely a whisper, barely louder than the sound of the waves below them. 

“I think I-” his voice catches. “I think I want to talk about it.”

It isn’t a question but Doyoung answers anyway. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nods slowly, brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I think I want to.”

“Then go ahead,” Doyoung smiles gently, glancing over at him. “I won’t interrupt you.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun breathes, not looking at Doyoung. Then he takes another deep breath, which trembles audibly before he speaks again. “I miss him,” is all he manages before he crumbles, curling into himself as the tears that he’d been holding in all night finally come tumbling down his face. Almost immediately, he feels strong hands wrap around him and pull him into an equally strong chest. Hands that, despite being so cold, warm him up from the inside. He cries hard, cries to make up for an entire week of holding in his tears, of trying to be strong. He grabs a fistful of Doyoung’s shirt as he curls even more into him, as he struggles to breathe in between the choking sobs. Throughout all this, Doyoung says nothing, just keeps an arm wrapped around him, steadying him, while his other hand combs through his hair gently.

They sit like this as Doyoung lets Jaehyun cry it out until his sobs reduce to hiccups and sniffles, and his breathing even outs again. 

“He got shot,” Jaehyun mumbles into his chest later, when even the hiccups subside. “Yuta, my best friend. He…” He swallows as a lump builds in his throat again at the mention of Yuta’s name. “He got shot while we were on an op, and there was nothing we could do. Extraction was still a few hours out and we were stranded in the middle of a camp far away from the closest city.”

In his mind, Jaehyun can still see the images from that night, of Yuta lying in his arms as he bleeds out. Of his voice, trying to comfort Jaehyun even though he was the one dying. Jaehyun takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, allowing the feel of Doyoung’s fingers in his hair to calm him down.

“He knew,” Jaehyun continues. “He knew about the timer and he- he told me to take whatever life he had left. Said that he was beyond saving and that he would rather give it to me, that if he had to die at least I would get to live because of it.” Jaehyun chokes at that, tears spilling out again, but he steadies himself. “He made me take his life, so that I could live.”

Jaehyun reaches for his sleeve and pulls it back, the refreshed timer on display. He traces a hand gently over the numbers and his forearm tingles. “These were his years, the years he gave to me. He should have been able to live them.”

Doyoung sighs, pulling Jaehyun closer to him and tucking him under his chin. “What was he like?” he whispers.

Jaehyun smiles when he thinks of him, alive and happy, eyes bright and that smile on his face. “He was a good person,” Jaehyun answers. “He was like a big brother and a best friend. I don’t think anyone else knows me as well as he did, and me him. We were a team, no other team pulled off as many successful missions as we did. We fought together and we killed together.” He pauses. “You know, we always thought that, as long as we were together, we’d be unstoppable.” 

“You loved him,” Doyoung says.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun replies, ignoring the way his heart clenches. “Of course, I did. He was the only family I had, out there in the field.” His voice trembles, and he has to stop speaking. When he starts again his voice is small, almost afraid. “Were you there?” He asks, carefully. “When he… left?”

Jaehyun feels Doyoung nod, and a small part of him tenses. “Was he- is he… okay?”

“Yeah,” and Jaehyun can hear the smile in his voice. “He was okay. He’s good now too, so you don’t have to worry about him. He’s safe.” And Jaehyun finally relaxes.

His body gives in to the exhaustion he’d been battling the entire week, even as a small part of him is aware that he’s still curled up in Doyoung’s arms and tries to get him to move. His body is unresponsive, however, and the feel of Doyoung’s fingers rubbing circles in his back lulls him into a strange sense of half-sleep, his eyes drifting shut against his will. He is vaguely aware of a pair of lips pressing into his forehead and a voice telling him to “sleep now,” and then he is falling into darkness.

☠︎

That night, he dreams of Yuta, of meeting him in a field much like the one where he’d held him in his final moments, except this one is prettier - dotted with flowers instead of weeds. The Yuta in his dream tells him not to worry, that he’s happy now and that Jaehyun should be happy too. He dreams that they sit in the field all night, wrapped around each other, talking about their lives and when the sun rises Yuta tells him that he has to go. He gives him one last hug and presses a kiss firmly to his brow before disappearing into the sunlight. 

When Jaehyun wakes, he is back in his bedroom and, even though tears are streaming down his face, he is content.

** _ Beijing, China - 1927 _ **

The cement tiles of the rooftop are warm underneath Jaehyun as he lies on his front, elbows propped up on the small sandbag he usually carries with him on missions like this. His sniper rifle is steady on its tripod and trained on a room in the building across the street, which has been known to house many an official political discussion. As well as many unofficial ones - like the one happening right now. 

Through his scope, Jaehyun can make out the three generals that he’d been told would be present at the meeting, alongside a man in a suit, who could only be the famed leader of the Chinese government, Moon Junhui. According to his brief, there were rumours the man was trying to turn against the communists. If this turns out to be true, the ripple effect that will carry over into Japan and Korea could be crippling, and it is the main reason why Jaehyun is stuck on the roof of a 15-storey building on horridly warm summer’s night.

Despite not being able to hear anything, the scope attached to his rifle gives him a clear view of the room the officials are using, especially of the board at the front, which has been his main focus since the start of his surveillance earlier that evening. 

He watches through his scope silently as one of the generals stands up in a rush and slams a fist on a table, glaring pointedly at the leader. He sighs, closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds, trying to ignore the way his uniform is clinging to him in the damp heat, patches of it sticking to places it really shouldn’t be sticking to. He mutters darkly as he tugs at a particularly persistent bit of fabric, before turning back to the scope. This is the reason why he hates surveillance missions - it’s just hours upon hours in the heat or the cold, unmoving, in the hopes that something significant will happen before extraction. To be fair, usually something does happen and, more often than not, Jaehyun will inevitably find himself in a scuffle, but even he knows that this isn’t going to be one of those missions. 

He returns to the scope just in time to see one of the Generals, the table-slammer, storm off, followed by another. The last one he recognised as one Xu Minghao, can be seen trying to talk some sense into an equally pissed off Junhui, whose ears are so red that even Jaehyun can see them. He groans and allows his head to rest on the sandbag, knowing that it will be a while before their discussion will pick up again. 

He is reaching for his canteen when he feels his forearm tingle, right over where he knows the shifting numbers lie, permanently etched into it. He peeks into the scope quickly to confirm that the Generals haven’t returned before reaching to pull back his sleeve. The numbers jump out at him, red and raw-looking as always, and he traces a finger gently over them - one hour left. It doesn’t hurt anymore, or he doesn’t feel the pain at least, as much as it looks as red as the day they first appeared.

He thinks back to that day, how young he had been, how he hadn’t really questioned the reason for the timer’s appearance. But he’d had a lot of time to think, it being almost forty years since the numbers first branded themselves into his skin. He figures that if anyone knows why or how this happened to him, Doyoung would, what with Death being his main area of expertise. He resolves to ask the being about it when they next see each other, which should be soon if his timer is anything to go by. Speaking of Doyoung, he hasn’t seen him since that night on the beach though, and the thought of how he’d broken down and cried - in Death’s embrace at that - makes him flush with embarrassment. But he supposes he has to thank him for that too, he’d woken up feeling more whole than he’d felt since the night Yuta had died. The improvement so obvious that even had Johnny had commented on it when he’d showed up at the agency a couple days after. 

He smiles at the thought of Yuta too, what he would say if he was here on this mission with him. _ Probably complain about the sweat in as lewd a way as possible _, he thinks to himself, which makes him laugh. He hasn’t had another partner since then though, despite Doyoung helping with his grief. He’d told himself that he couldn’t live through someone else he cared for dying on his watch. Johnny had given him grief about it at first but had given in after taking into account the fact that Jaehyun no longer aged, and having to explain that to multiple partners would be too much of a hassle. Still, sometimes he does wish he didn’t have to go out on these missions alone - there’s no one to talk to for one, and for another, Jaehyun just misses human interaction sometimes.

The sound of footsteps on the concrete behind him jolts him out of his contemplation, and he is on his back with his pistol trained at the spot where the sound came from in a heartbeat. He is surprised to find a man walking towards him, features hidden by the lack of a light source on the roof, so he keeps his pistol trained on the slowly-approaching figure. The figure laughs and it is oh-so-familiar, images of an old barracks-style room and the sea at night flash in his head.

“Were you thinking about me?” The man asks as he approaches, tone playful, and Jaehyun lowers his weapon.

“Doyoung?” 

“The one and only,” Doyoung replies, grinning, coming to a stop where he is standing over Jaehyun and Jaehyun snorts, turning back around so he is lying on his front again. He casts a glance at his still exposed forearm and frowns.

“You’re early,” he comments, peering into his scope to make sure he hasn’t missed out on anything important - the generals still haven’t returned and Jaehyun resists the urge to roll his eyes at the situation. 

Doyoung seats himself beside him on the ground cross-legged, facing the building as well. He shrugs at Jaehyun’s words. “I had time,’ is all he offers and Jaehyun can’t help but direct a pointed look at him, to which Doyoung just shrugs again.

“Anyway,” he continues, crossing his arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Jaehyun asks, throwing him a questioning look, and Doyoung smiles at him, perfectly white teeth glinting in the moonlight. It makes Jaehyun shiver a little, and he isn’t sure if it is out of fear or something else.

“Were you thinking about me?” He repeats, emphasising each word specifically, smile widening.

Jaehyun feels heat creep up his skin, which he chooses to attribute to the summer warmth, but he refuses to be intimidated. “Yeah, I was, actually,” he answers and is surprised when he sees the tips of Doyoung’s ear tinge pink. It makes him feel a little fuzzy inside, but he pushes that feeling down.

“You were?” Doyoung asks, eyes widening as he glances at Jaehyun, voice just that much higher than it normally is.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, turning back to the scope. “I wanted to thank you. You know… for uh… being there for me last time.” He sees Doyoung relax a little out of the corner of his eyes and smiles slightly to himself. 

“Oh! I’d almost completely forgotten about that.” Doyoung laughs. “Are you… um, better now?”

This time it’s Jaehyun’s turn to laugh, having to turn away from the rifle so he doesn’t smack his head into it. “Doyoung, it’s been almost 20 years since then. I’m fine.” He places a hand on Doyoung’s knee. “But really, thank you for that. I think it would have taken me a lot longer to be okay if it wasn’t for you.”

Doyoung looks down at him and smiles. “I’m glad,” he says softly and, oh the _ way _ that Doyoung is looking at him makes it feel like his insides are being twisted into knots, and his eyes look like he’s holding the universe in them, shining so softly in the darkness that Jaehyun almost believes they actually do hold the stars. Jaehyun knows that he if keeps looking he’ll no longer be able to look away, wanting, instead, to fall into the galaxies that sparkle at him in the dark. So he looks away, breaking the strange spell that had settled over them for that brief moment.

He hears Doyoung clear his throat but he fixes his gaze on the scene within the scope instead, reminding himself that he is, in fact, still on a mission. He watches as the two Generals return to the room and the four people begin their discussion once again with renewed fervour. Junhui is finally making use of the board and Jaehyun scrambles to grab the notepad and pen he’d brought out of his backpack. 

He’s in the middle of scribbling down what the Chinese officials have written on the board so far, squinting hard through the scope so as not to miss any detail when Doyoung shifts beside him. He startles so hard - so absorbed is he in his work that he forgets he’s not alone on the rooftop - that he smacks his face on the rim of the scope. 

“Fuck!” He hisses, rolling over onto his back and clutching at his eye. “Why did you do that?”

Doyoung looks down at him in bewilderment. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Jaehyun glares at him with his one good eye. “You _ moved_!” 

Doyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he bends down so he can look Jaehyun right in the eye. “Did you forget I was here?” 

“No I- Of course not!” He scrambles. “I was just concentrating.” 

Doyoung laughs. “Of course you were,” he says, before stopping to take a closer look at Jaehyun’s eye. “Let me look.” He pulls Jaehyun’s hand off his face too look and Jaehyun scowls at him. 

“Is it bad?” 

Doyoung shakes his head but Jaehyun doesn’t miss the way the corners of Doyoung’s mouth twitch upward and he scowls even more. “Don’t lie to me. It looks like I got socked in the face, doesn’t it?”

“It really doesn’t look _that _bad,” Doyoung reassures. “But, here. Let me.” He moves to place the palm of his hand over Jaehyun’s eye and Jaehyun sighs at how the cold of his hand feels against his skin. There is a slight flash of light from Doyoung’s palm and he’s removing his hand from Jaehyun’s face. Before he can remove his hand completely, Jaehyun reaches out to grab his wrist and places it back against his face. 

“Don’t,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “Feels good.” And it does, the way Doyoung is perpetually cold feels like heaven on his heat-flushed face. He doesn’t even realise what he’s done until he feels Doyoung stiffen beside him, hand still on his face that his eyes shoot open. He looks at Doyoung, who is very pointedly not looking at him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, allowing Doyoung to withdraw his hand. 

“It’s fine,” Doyoung answers, arms crossing again. “Don’t you have work to do?” 

“Oh! Yeah, shit.” He mutters returning to the scope and his notebook and hurriedly takes down more notes on what he’s seeing. 

“You know,” Doyoung starts. “I can help if you want?”

Jaehyun looks back at him, eyebrows raised. “Help? How?” 

“I don’t need a scope to see the board, for one thing,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the room and Jaehyun’s eyes widen. 

“Are you serious?” He asks, incredulous. “You can do that? Help me, I mean. You won’t be breaking any huge cosmic rules or anything?”

Doyoung laughs. “I’m not telling you anything you wouldn’t be able to find out by looking through that scope so, no. I’m not breaking any rules. I’m just… making things easier for you.”

Jaehyun frowns at his words. “Why would you, though?” He asks. “Why are you helping me?”

For the first time, Jaehyun has rendered Doyoung speechless, but he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Doyoung looks at him and his brows furrow. 

“I… don’t know,” he says finally. “I guess… I want to?” And Jaehyun feels his insides squeeze again, along with a sudden urge to smile, so he looks away. 

“Thank you, then,” Jaehyun mumbles, reaching for his notepad and pen. “Again.” 

“Yeah…” Doyoung trails off, still frowning. 

He doesn’t seem to notice that’s staring off into space so Jaehyun coughs and Doyoung jumps a little. “So… uh… what does the board say?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry.” Doyoung responds, sheepish. “They’ve actually just wiped it clean, but they haven’t added anything since the last thing you wrote so you’re not missing anything.” He frowns as he squints into the distance. “I actually think they’re all taking a break now. Ah, a smoke break. You have about ten minutes I think before they come back.”

“Great,” Jaehyun groans, rolling onto his back and stretching himself out. He gives Doyoung a cursory glance before continuing his stretches.”You know,” he continues, “you’re lucky no one can see you. My back is killing me, I would do anything to be able to sit up right now.”

Doyoung snorts, amused. “Shouldn’t you be used to this by now?”

“Doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable, though,” Jaehyun answers, as he rolls himself back onto his front. When he does, the sleeve of his shirt slips back revealing the numbers on his forearm and something clicks in the back of his mind.

“Hey, Doyoung?” He asks, turning back over so he can look up at Doyoung. “You’re Death right?”

“Mmm,” Doyoung hums in reply, eyes still trained on something far away.

“Then you should know why I have this timer on my arm right?”

Beside him, he feels Doyoung stiffen. “Yes, I know why.” Is all he says.

Jaehyun frowns up at him. “Can you not tell me why? Is it some kind of rule?”

“Something like that,” Doyoung replies with a grimace and Jaehyun’s brow furrows even more.

“Can’t you tell me something at least? Anything?” Jaehyun is frustrated now, having expected that Doyoung would be able to tell him everything.

Doyoung flinches at his tone and Jaehyun immediately feels his heart sink. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I just… This happened so suddenly for me, and I still don’t know where it came from or what it really is even. Why have I stopped ageing? How many more friends do I have to see die?” He thinks of Johnny then, of how he’s almost 60 while Jaehyun still doesn’t look a day over 22, and his heart constricts.

Doyoung looks down at him then, nothing but sadness in his eyes, and Jaehyun has the sudden urge to reach out, to smooth those lines away, even though he is the one that should be comforted. “I’m sorry too, Jaehyun. I promise I’ll tell you when I can. Just… Not today.”

They sit in silence for a while, Doyoung keeping an eye on the building while Jaehyun watches the stars. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, it wasn’t an answer at all really, but who is Jaehyun to argue with universal law. He heaves a sigh and he sees Doyoung’s eyes flick towards him before settling back on the building opposite. Then there is Doyoung, who he doesn’t understand either. Who is Death and yet also the young man sitting beside him, fingers tapping along to a silent tune against his knee. Doyoung, who seems so human most of the time, whose eyes are too bright and voice too light for someone who ferries souls into the afterlife. Doyoung, who laughs too much, who cares too much, whose actions are so warm despite always being so cold. 

Jaehyun doesn’t understand him at all. And he doesn’t understand himself either, for how he reacts to the slightest thing Doyoung does. How Doyoung’s fingers felt, cool, on his face; how he maybe wants to feel them on him again. He groans, burying that thought and throwing a hand over his eyes, maybe he really needs to get another partner, if only to have another human to interact with.

He’s startled out of his reverie by cold hands on his arm and he lowers it slightly, peaking out, and finds Doyoung looking at him, concern etched into his features. “Hey, you okay?” Doyoung asks. “They’re coming back soon.”

“Fine,” he mutters, reaching out blindly to grab for the pad and pen. Doyoung watches him struggle for a good minute before grabbing the items and placing them on his chest.

“Here,” he laughs and Jaehyun hates the way his heart clenches.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, refusing to look at Doyoung.

He’s about to turn back over when Doyoung stops him. “Wait,” he says and pulls Jaehyun over, tugging at him until his head is pillowed nicely in his lap.

“What are you doing?” Jaehyun hisses, still not over the shock of being man-handled.

Doyoung shrugs, looking away. “You were uncomfortable.” He says simply. “This feels better doesn’t it?”

Jaehyun can’t lie, this definitely beats lying on the uncomfortably warm hard ground, especially when Doyoung’s thighs are nice and cold and makes him feel like he’s lying on an ice pillow. Before Jaehyun can respond, Doyoung tenses and smacks him on the chest.

“What is it?” Jaehyun yelps.

“Shut up, they’re coming back.”

Jaehyun snorts. “You need your ears to see?” and Doyoung glares at him.

“Would you like to do this yourself?”

Jaehyun shakes his head and mimes zipping up his lips before picking up his notepad to which Doyoung sighs and rolls his eyes, before looking back towards the building.

“The minister, Junhui, he’s writing on the board again,” Doyoung whispers down at him. “I think it’s important, he’s boxed it out in red.”

“What does it _ say _?” 

“He’s blocking it, hold on.” Jaehyun looks up him, watching the way the creases above his brow deepen just so when he’s trying to focus on something. _ So human_, he thinks to himself again. 

“Holy shit,” Doyoung gasps. “It’s a date… 2 weeks from now, to the day. It’s a coup!” He pauses. “The Generals are shaking hands with him now, I think… I think he has the support of the entire army.”

Suddenly Doyoung’s eyes glaze over, and Jaehyun watches as he sees something that he knows can’t be what’s happening on the inside of that room. 

“Doyoung?” he whispers, reaching up to shake him by the shoulders. “Doyoung! What are you seeing?”

Almost as quickly as it started, it stopped, and Doyoung is blinking as he returns back to himself. He looks down at Jaehyun and, for the first time, he sees worry in Doyoung’s eyes. He decides then and there that he never wants to see that look on Doyoung’s face again.

“You have to go,” Doyoung tells him. “I can’t do anything, but you need to tell your superiors what you saw, fast.”

“Doyoung, what are you saying? What did you see?” But Doyoung only shakes his head at him.

“I can’t intervene. Go, now, please. I can only do this one thing for you.” He reaches down and envelopes Jaehyun’s free hand in one of his own. “Deep breath,” he says.

Jaehyun breathes and finds himself alone, in what must be the closest phone booth to where he just was. His rifle is packed and in its case right alongside his backpack, both of which sit at his feet. With the feeling of Doyoung’s cold hand still over his, he picks up the phone and dials.

** _Tokyo, Japan - 1945_ **

People are milling about the lobby, waiting to be let into the antechamber where the signing was supposed to be held. Anyone who is everyone, from top military personnel and politicians to reporters for the biggest tabloids, have congregated in this hall, on this day, to witness a signing that will mark what could probably be the biggest change in history. Jaehyun watches them from his station on the balcony, watches as they wander through the between the marble pillars that adorn the sides of the lobby making small talk with other people of their rank, as they pluck flutes of what can only be some sort of alcohol from the trays of the servers who walk amongst them. Everyone is dressed smartly too, the military men in their uniforms, the politicians in their dull grey suits, even the women are decked out in their smart suit jackets and proper a-line skirts.

Jaehyun fiddles with the collar of his suit, uncomfortable with the way it sits just a bit too tight around his neck and tries to loosen his tie without actually looking like he’d loosened his tie. He hates wearing suits, they make him feel suffocated and like he’s pretending to be someone he isn’t. Unfortunately for him, the mandatory because he was specifically ordered to blend in so that he could keep an eye out for anyone who might seem even the tiniest bit suspicious. Jaehyun is sure that means that he should be wandering through the crowd like any other normal human being present but he really doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to feel suffocated by the horde of people already big enough to fill the entrance of the American Embassy, doesn’t want to feel people period, so upstairs on the balcony is where he remains.

He tells himself that this is the best vantage point anyway, he can see the patterns between people, read the way people’s bodies respond to each other, and that makes it easier for him to spot any kind of abnormal behaviour. He gives the crowd below him one last scan, taking note of where the other agents are situated in it, just in case he needs backup fast.He sees them in various corners, cozying up to some of the more important guests, one of them even nursing s glass of something that most definitely should not be drunk on missions. He attributes it to the agents being a lot younger, and new to the field too. 

Sighing, he closes his eyes and counts to ten, taking deep breaths before opening them again. Now, he is confident that he can talk to the kids without biting their heads off. He is just about to move away from the railing when the sound of urgent footfalls coming toward him makes him halt in his movement. He turns towards the sound and is surprised to see one of their surveillance team - agents not suited for field work but still incredibly resourceful in other ways - heading toward him. The poor young man is panting and his hat has been knocked askew, Jaehyun assumes, from running to get to him. He frowns, what could possibly be this important that they would send one of non-field agents into the field just to get him.

“Mr. Jaehyun, uh, Sir?” He squeaks and Jaehyun would have laughed if not for the note of urgency in the young man’s voice. “You need to come with me, quickly.”

“What is so urgent that you need to take me off-duty?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

The boy fidgets and scratches his head, smiling sheepishly at him when he answers. “I”m sorry, I’m not sure, Sir. All I know is that the Chief thought it would be better if you heard it in person, and not from a messenger boy, like me.”

“What could possibly be so important that you are pulling me from the field _ minutes _ from when the event is about to start?”

“I-,” the young man pauses, twitches again, hands wringing. “I think it’s about your mother, Sir.”

Jaehyun feels all the blood leave his face in an instant, and he has to grab onto the railing for support before his knees give way. The young messenger boy blanches at the sight and rushes to help him but Jaehyun waves him off and tells him to lead the way instead. The young man nods and Jaehyun gives the agents on the ground one last glance before following him down the side hall though which he had entered.

The hallway is so different from the lobby, he muses, as he follows the man down its length. Where the foyer had been bright with all it’s polished marble and decorative light fixtures, this hallway is dark and wood-paneled in a kind of oak wood, the only light comes from the fluorescent bulbs that hang at an equal distance from the end of the corridor. It is severe, that’s how Jaehyun would describe it. All business and definitely no fun. 

He follows the messenger into a room at the end of the hall and when he enters he is greeted by a mess of people and paper and sounds. He notices a whole row of people at telegraph machines at the back, followed by more rows of people at phone operating stations. The beeping of the telegraph machines intermingles with the random bouts of static emanating from the telephones and the clack of the typewriters set in the center of the room. The contrast of this room to the sounds of the foyer almost gives him whiplash and he has to pause at the entrance to allow himself time for adjustment. 

The young man who had led him to the room gestures to the only other man in a suit in the room who is currently bent over one of the phone operators and listening intently to whoever is on the other end of the line. The crease over his brow deepens just as Jaehyun reaches him and he sets the headset back onto the hook. 

“Jaehyun,” he nods. 

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun replies, foregoing his title because Taeyong insisted once that he wasn’t going to be called Chief by someone as old as Jaehyun, who really has no arguments against it anyway. He allows himself a smile, which makes the other man smile back - not as bright, and a lot tired, but Jaehyun takes it anyway. “What is it?”

Taeyong looks down, unable to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. “You might want to sit down for this, Jae.” The unconscious use of the nickname telling Jaehyun everything he needs to know about the situation. Taeyong would never address him this casually in front of other agents unless he was preoccupied it slipped out, so Jaehyun takes a seat in one of the empty chairs and waits. 

Taeyong takes a deep breath and looks back up at him. “I’m really sorry, Jae. She’s gone.”

Jaehyun sucks in a breath and looks away, unable to look at Taeyong for fear that he was going to start crying. And he couldn’t, not on OP, definitely not during one as important as this one. He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much anyway, he was never close to his mother, having joined Korea’s National Intelligence Service (NIS) at 18. In the years after, he’d been too busy to see her regularly, and they mostly communicated through letters or the occasional phone call. But, she is his mother, he supposes - the only living relative he has left. It hits him then, that he’s just lost the last member of his ‘family’, or rather the family he had made for himself since joining the service. 

Yuta was the first one to go, obviously, and that had hit him the hardest, for various reasons. Then Johnny - the only father figure he’d ever had in his life - who’d only gone a couple of years before. He guesses he still has Taeil, but Taeil was more an extension of Johnny than anything else. Really, the only person he had left had been his mother, and now she is gone too. He feels this in his chest, like someone had taken a nail to it and is currently trying their hardest to push it through. He clenches his fist harder, nails digging into his skin in the hopes that the physical pain will distract from the emotional one. 

It is when he lets out a shuddering breath that he suddenly finds himself enveloped in Taeyong’s arms, other agents be damned. He doesn’t say anything but Jaehyun knows what he means and he lets himself wrap his arms around Taeyong, just for a brief second, before he pulls away again. He gives Taeyong’s arms a gentle pat and offers up a small smile. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “Let’s get this job done first.”

Taeyong frowns at him. “Are you sure?”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” He answers with a wry smile. “This event is going to happen with or without us. I’ll be fine.”

Taeyong’s frown only deepens and Jaehyun laughs, although it sounds empty even to him. “Really,” he reassures Taeyong. “I’ll deal with it when this over. But for now, I need to get back to the foyer because I think they kids might be getting too friendly with some of the guests. Namely, the spirits.” This makes Taeyong burst out laughing and he gives Jaehyun a returning pat on the shoulder.

“I hope you’ll give them a stern talking-to.” Taeyong remarks and this time it is Jaehyun who laughs. 

“You know I will,” he replies with a smile. “Watch our backs.”

“Yes, sir.” Taeyong mock salutes and Jaehyun snorts. He gives Taeyong a little before heading out the door.

When he gets back to the balcony, he is glad to see that the younger agents are now back at their positions. He sighs and glances at his watch, they have five more minutes before the door opens and then it’s show time. It is at that moment that his right forearm starts to tingle and he clamps a hand over it reflexively. Looking around, he makes sure that no one is around him before he pulls the sleeve of his suit jacket up slowly. _ 1 hour _ . _ Great, _ he thinks to himself, now he has someone else he has to look for. Not that he _has _to, not really, but it’s just something else that will take up space in his mind when he needs to be 200% focused on his task. 

It doesn’t help that he is alone now and there is no Taeyong to help distract him from the weight of his mother’s death, which sits like a stone on his shoulders. Maybe he can ask Doyoung about her later, he thinks before shaking himself. No, now really isn’t the time. _ Focus, Jaehyun_.

Beneath him a bell sounds and the doors to the main antechamber off the foyer starts to open. Carefully, he makes his way down the main staircase and into the foyer, a hand wrapped casually around the spare pistol he’d slotted in the pocket of his pants just before arriving. He scans the crowd carefully as he passes, looking for any sign of suspicious activity. He passes some of the other agents who are doing the same thing and they give each other small nods of acknowledgement as they pass. 

Following the crowd into the antechamber, he notes where the podium and dais has been set up and makes his way toward it. The dais has been set so that the podium stands in the forefront, right in the middle, while a row of chairs line the back end. Generals from the representing countries - Japan and America - are already seated there. In between the podium and the chairs stands a round wooden table, two identical manilla folders lie on it, each one facing opposite ends of the dais. This is where the two heads of state are supposed to meet to sign off on Japan’s surrender and officially end the last four years of war. 

They are the only two people missing from the room at the moment, per the request of the security team who had felt that being present during the entrance of the crowd would put them at too much of a risk. Instead, the two heads were instructed to enter from opposite doors at the back end of the hall at the same time once the crowd is settled. Jaehyun stations himself right in front of the dais, a location that, he figures, will allow him to get to at least one of the leaders before anything happens. _ If _ anything happens. He gives the room one last glance, surveys the faces of everyone around him, searching for signs of discontent or any other kind of suspicious behaviour, but he sees nothing. Just expressions of eagerness on the part of many of the politicians present, while the journalists’ expressions are stern, completely focused on their notepads.

Jaehyun is noting the positions of the other members of his team - two on the corners of the crowd the third mirrors his position on the other side of the hall - when a voice speaks into his ear.

“You clean up nicely,” it says, and Jaehyun scowls, crossing his arms, while internally patting himself on the back for not visibly startling this time.

“You’re early again,” he whispers, head ducking down so no one on the dais can see his lips moving.

“Mmmm,” the voice hums, “I like being early. Besides, this looks exciting.”

Jaehyun allows himself a quick glance at the owner of the voice and finds that Doyoung, too, cleans up nicely. He is wearing a suit that, suspiciously, seems to match his, and his hair is slicked back neatly. His eyes shine as he smiles at Jaehyun, who swallows thickly and returns his gaze to the dais in front of him.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” he comments, and if his voice sounds a bit tighter than normal he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Please,” Doyoung scoffs. “I look great.”

“That’s it, I’m taking it back,” Jaehyun grunts huffily. 

Doyoung clicks his teeth and gives Jaehyun a quick jab in the side with his elbow, which Jaehyun has to disguise with a shallow cough. “Fine, fine,” he half-wheezes. “I won’t take it back.” Doyoung smiles and Jaehyun’s traitorous heart thunders in his chest.

“By the way,” Doyoung continues, “Did you make it in time?”

Jaehyun looks at him confused for a second before realising that no one else can see Doyoung - and that he’d just looked at the reporter beside him funny - so he whips his head back to face the dais. “In time for?”

Doyoung tuts and Jaehyun can practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. “The last time I saw you. Did you get the message to your superiors in time?”

“Oh,” Jaehyun breathes, realisation dawning on him. “I made it but it made no difference. The Chinese civil war still happened, which ended up cascading into Korea. That was nothing compared to the war that followed, though.” He nods toward the dais.

Beside him he hears Doyoung sigh, one that belies his true identity. “You humans and your wars; so much death and destruction.”

Jaehyun casts a quick glance at Doyoung before moving his gaze to the back entrances - the leaders should be entering soon he thinks. “Isn’t that a good thing for you though?” He murmurs. “All that Death.”

He feels Doyoung bristle beside him. “I _ am _ Death, I am nature’s end to all things. But that doesn’t mean I want everyone to die for senseless reasons. There is a cycle, a balance, life _and _death. When humans wage war, they’re dipping their toes into what is only a small fraction of my power and using it for their own selfish reasons.”

Jaehyun winces at Doyoung’s outburst, never having seen him this angered in, well, ever. He casts a quick glance around the room to make sure no one is watching before he hooks a finger into one of Doyoung’s. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you” he whispers, and Doyoung quietens.

“I don’t _kill _things,” Doyoung mumbles, almost sadly. “I am just Death.”

“I know that now, I’m sorry.”

Doyoung gives his finger a squeeze, “It’s okay. It’s difficult for humans to understand.”

“Yeah.” Jaehyun sighs, directing his attention back to the room. The two leaders are entering the hall now, flanked by their own personal sets of bodyguards. He glances around one more time, looking for signs - a hand in a jacket, someone reaching into a pocket - but everyone is still as they make their way toward the dais. It is completely silent and Jaehyun is sure that if anyone so much as breathed loudly it would have echoed. 

He watches the two men on stage approach each other solemnly, eyes never breaking contact with each other unless it is to avoid tripping on steps or bumping into things. They both turn to face the crowd and it’s like a bubble pops. Suddenly, everyone is saying something, people are yelling questions over each other, and the clicks and whirs of cameras going off fill the room. Jaehyun frowns at the crowd, disliking the way they’ve clambered over each other to get closer to the podium despite the barriers present but everything seems harmless so far. He makes eye contact with the other agents and they nod their ‘okays’.

Taking advantage of the noise, he turns toward Doyoung, suddenly acutely aware that their fingers are still linked. “By the way,” he asks. “I… wanted to ask you about something…” He trails off and Doyoung turns to give him a questioning look. “My mother,” he starts but his voice gets choked off and he has to look away. Tears start to well in his eyes but he blinks them away desperately, he can’t do this, not right now. 

Slowly, he takes a deep breath before repeating himself. “My mother just passed, I was just wondering if you…” He gestures vaguely. “You know…”

“Yeah I did,” Doyoung replies and Jaehyun has to glance at him to confirm that he hadn’t imagined the way Doyoung’s words had come out all stiff. Doyoung face seems expressionless but Jaehyun sees the way the corners of Doyoung’s mouth seem to be pressed a little too flat and he frowns in concern. 

“What is it? Was it bad? Did something happen?” Jaehyun asks, frantic in the way he’s trying to direct his attention towards both Doyoung and his situation, and in the back of his mind, his mother’s death still looms. 

“No, no,” Doyoung’s lips press thinner, minutely, but Jaehyun notices. “She’s fine, she went peacefully.” And Jaehyun knows that at least that part was true so he nods and faces forward again. 

He tries to watch the crowd but finds that his mind is now a whole mess of emotion - thoughts about his mother, about Doyoung, about death race around his mind, fighting to be at the forefront much like the way the journalists are fighting here. Suddenly it’s too loud, and there are too many things for him to focus on. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, he hears Doyoung’s voice beside him asking him if he’s okay and then he hears _it. _The telltale click of a weapon being cocked, almost indistinguishable in the current clamour of noises, but he hears it and it takes him a second for his over-taxed mind to register what it is, but that is a second too many. 

He lunges for the US President - one of the two leaders closest to him - but not before he feels something collide with his back. It is silent for a second, an eternity, and then all he knows is pain. It rips through his entire right side, tearing through the flesh and bone, rendering him completely immobile. He is lucid enough to recognise that the President is alive beneath him before another wave of pain whites him out. 

Vaguely he hears a voice calling his name, many voices calling his name, but it is only one voice he hears. 

“Doyoung…” he tries to call out, but he’s not sure if the word makes it out of his mouth. 

Then a hand finds his, he can’t see it, his vision going whiter and whiter with each wave of pain, but he knows who it belongs to. “I’m here, I’m here.” He hears and he’s not sure if he hears it with his ears or with his mind, but the hand remains cold in his and he holds onto it like a lifeline.

Before his consciousness goes he hears someone whispering, murmuring like a prayer, over and over again. “Please don’t give him to me. I don’t want him, I don’t want him, I don’t want him…” He doesn’t know what this person means but he’s sure this person is crying, feels the tears on his arm right before he slips into blackness. 

☠︎

When Jaehyun awakens, he finds himself in almost complete darkness, the only source of light coming from a small window in the corner that has its curtains half-drawn. There is a dull throbbing pain coming from the entirety of his right torso, which has been wrapped up in bandages. He doesn’t need to look to know that he’s shattered at least two of his ribs and the fact that he’s currently breathing out of a tube means that he’s punctured a lung. He should be dead, he thinks, or at the very least near dead. His right arm twitches and underneath the bandages the digits glow as he watches while two more years get added to his counter. 

** _ Ergun River, Russia - 1960 _ **

The engine of the ancient truck he’s in sputters to a halt at the edge of the settlement bordering Olochi, black fumes rising from the hood. He eyes the front of the truck warily as he steps out of the vehicle, grabbing his assortment of bags, cases, and backpack from the backseat. The driver of the truck, an old weathered-looking man that looks about as beat up as his vehicle, steps out of the vehicle and walks toward him, hand outstretched. He grabs the old man’s hand firmly and pulls him into a quick embrace.

“Thanks for everything,” he says, giving the man’s shoulder and extra squeeze before nodding in the direction of the smoking hood. “You sure she can survive the ride back to Nerchinsky?”

“Of course!” The old man laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “She’s been with me for four decades now, she won’t be leaving me so soon.”

Jaehyun throws the vehicle and distrustful look before gracing the old man with a smile. “That she won’t!” He answers, laughing lightly. “You take care of yourself, old man.”

“Who you callin’ an old man? I’m as young as I was the day I met ol’ Olga here.” He gives the old truck a fond pat before casting that same fond look Jaehyun’s way. “_ You _ take care of yourself, young man.”

“I will,” he answers.

“Good! Now I best be off if I wanna get back before night falls. You know these roads aren’t lit for shit and Olga’s lights are pretty much shot.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Drive safe, old man.”

The old man gets back into the driver’s seat and gives Jaehyun one last wave before he kicks (literally) the engine back to life and sets off back down the road. Jaehyun watches until the truck disappears around the bend before hefting his bags onto his arms and setting off in a direction opposite to that of the settlement, into the wasteland that leads to the river. 

When he had gotten the notice from headquarters that his year on border watch of the Russian-Chinese border - following the splitting of their individual communist parties - was over and that extraction was to take place via the Ergun River, he had expected there to at least be trees or some sort of secondary forest around the river’s banks. Unfortunately, he is greeted by flat lowlands instead, which look to be mainly dirt with speckled with the occasional tundra shrub. Without any trees, the late afternoon sun beats down mercilessly on his back and while the sun early fall sun may not necessarily be hot, it does make the trek extremely uncomfortable, especially under all of the bags Jaehyun has.

Although, if he’s being honest, the sun and the heat really isn’t his problem. His problem is that being in a flat, open wasteland exposes him to any watchful eye and while he assumes that there will be none this far out in the country, you can never be too careful. He looks about him, noting the lack of living creatures aside from the occasional reptile, and shudders. Too exposed, and too quiet.

☠︎

When the sun starts to dip below the horizon, Jaehyun stops, dropping his bags so he can free up his arms to check the time. He flicks his wrist to free his watch from his sleeve and nods to himself, he’s making good time - his extraction is scheduled for midnight, which gives him just under another five hours to get to the river bank. As he readjusts his sleeves, a little bit of red catches his eye. He tugs his sleeve back to expose the timer, the red all too familiar to him now. _ 4 hours _. Maybe he won’t have to make the trek to the riverbank alone. Smiling at the thought, he picks up his bags again and pushes on towards the river.

About an hour into his trek he comes upon some low trees, that he had thought were bushes from far, and thanks all the gods for the cover. He ducks into the - can he even call it a forest? - forest and feels the tension he had built up during the day finally leave his body. Nobody would be able to pick him out here, not in the fading evening light, and definitely not while he was in his all-black military ensemble. It is almost completely dark now, the sun well below the horizon and he allows himself to revel in the strange comfort being in the dark gives him. 

The entire time he had been in Russia, he’d had to play the part of his undercover alias - a miner from another town who had lost his job and needed somewhere he could make the bare minimum for him to survive. Of course, that meant he had spent almost an entire year working the mines, and sharing his space with a whole host of other people. Now, he was finally alone, finally hidden from the eyes of the public again and it made him more relaxed than anything.

After walking a few paces in the darkness, he pauses to fish something out of pant-pocket - his standard-issue torchlight. He taps the top and it clicks to life, making him sigh in relief. It works. He’d had to hide most of his gear during his year in Russia and he was afraid that they would have fallen into various states of disuse. Using the torch, he carefully picks his way through the low bush, taking especial care to avoid dead leaves or scattered twigs, more out of habit than the real need to remain silent. He’d given the forest a cursory, and he is certain that there is no other living thing within his immediate radius. Not even an animal, which once again causes alarm bells to ring in his head, but he tells himself he is being paranoid and moves on. 

Soon, the low trees start to give way to bigger trees, and he no longer has to duck underneath low hanging branches. He never thought he’d ever be thankful for having enough headroom to stand up straight but here he is, thanking every possible deity that he knows, for being able to stretch his arms and legs completely. With the change in forest, comes a change in environment, and suddenly he is completely enveloped in sounds and smells. He hears animals rustling in the undergrowth, frogs croaking some distance away, if he listens carefully, he thinks he can even hear the rushing of the river water. He smiles, contented, and continues on into the forest.

It is only when he gets to a clearing of birch trees, eerily beautiful in the light of the waxing moon, that he considers the chance he might not actually be paranoid. That the weird curling in his gut that had unsettled him for the better part of the journey might actually be on to something, and that he might be being watched. He knows for a fact that there have been no other humans around him though, and he refuses to believe that his is being stalked by some sort of Russian ghost. That could only mean one thing, really. His right forearm tingles, and he smiles.

“Doyoung?” He asks, dropping his bags and looking around, careful to keep his volume as low as possible so as not to frighten the wildlife. When no answer comes, he scowls. 

“I know it’s you, Doyoung. You can come out now.”

From the birch trees behind him, he hears someone laugh, long and melodic, the sound smooth as glass, which brings the smile back to his face. 

“How did you know it was me?” Doyoung asks, stepping out from behind one of the birch trees into the clearing and Jaehyun loses all the air in his lungs. He looks beautiful, dressed in a simple white shirt and khaki slacks, not dissimilar from Jaehyun’s black ones. The moonlight reflects off his midnight hair in a way that almost makes it look like it is giving out its own light. Jaehyun, on the other hand, is covered in sweat and dirt. His hair is completely windswept and he thinks he might be just a little bit sunburnt on his nose. He looks between the two of them and is suddenly overcome with the urge to hide in a hole until Doyoung disappears.

“You’re staring, Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, laughing lightly and Jaehyun realises that he is, in fact, staring and that he also completely missed Doyoung’s initial question.

“Sorry,” he grins sheepishly. “You look especially…” he trails off, waving his hands in a vague gesture that he hopes Doyoung will understand.

“Beautiful?” Doyoung supplies, making Jaehyun roll his eyes despite the tips of his ears warming.

“You know every time I want to say something nice to you, you always give me a reason to not say it.”

Doyoung shrugs. “I am who I am, I’m not going to sugarcoat it.”

“I don’t think there’s a way you can sugarcoat Death, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says directing a pointed look his way and Doyoung bursts out laughing.

“No, I guess there isn’t.”

As the Doyoung’s laughter fades into the night, his expression goes with it - changing from a smile to furrowed brows. He approaches Jaehyun slowly, eyes searching his, as he comes to a stop right in front of him. He lifts a hand, almost as if to touch, but he doesn’t and it just hangs in the air between them instead.

“You’re okay right?” He asks softly, his hand trembling. 

Jaehyun looks back at him a little lost. “Am I okay? Should I not be?”

“The last time-” Doyoung’s voice comes out a little strangled and he takes a breath. “The last time I saw you, you were… you were…” He breaks off, his large eyes glisten as they lock on Jaehyun’s, unable to continue.

They’re so close, it takes Jaehyun a while for him to remember anything other than Doyoung - Doyoung in a suit, Doyoung with his hair slicked back, Doyoung’s finger linked with his and then a gunshot echoes in his mind and he can’t hide the small gasp that escapes his lips when he remembers. His left hand reaches up to his right chest reflexively and Doyoung’s eyes flicker towards the movement.

“I’m,” he gulps, eyes still trained on Doyoung. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really remember much about that night actually.”

Doyoung doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with those eyes and Jaehyun wants to look away and also never look at anything else ever again. Doyoung’s hand twitches forward towards him and Jaehyun, in a spurt of bravery, grabs Doyoung’s hand and places it over the scar on his rib where they’d had to operate to save his life. Doyoung’s fingers trail gently over it, almost as if he can see it through all of Jaehyun’s layers, and suddenly Jaehyun can’t breathe. He feels like he’s being taken apart and put together again at the point where Doyoung’s fingers are on him. His breath hitches and Doyoung’s gaze snaps back to his, as though _he’d _been the one under a spell, and suddenly he’s crashing into Jaehyun. His arms wind their way around his waist and he buries his face in Jaehyun’s chest, the top of his head tickling Jaehyun’s nose.

Jaehyun stuns for a full minute, his mind completely overloading before he registers Doyoung’s cold on him and wraps his arms around him too.

“You got shot,” Doyoung mumbles into his chest, arms gripping tighter like he is afraid that Jaehyun will disappear if he lets him go. “Right in front of me. I saw you go down and there was- there was so much _blood_. I thought you’d died, but then I’d know if you’d died. Then I thought you were going to die and I was…” he pauses, or stops himself, Jaehyun doesn’t know. “When you didn’t come through I was so _happy_. But the thought that you were hurt…” he trails off with a shudder, which makes Jaehyun pull him closer.

“I’m okay now, don’t worry,” he whispers gently, nosing into Doyoung’s hair, breathing him in. “I’ll always be okay. I’ve got Death on my side anyway.”

Doyoung smacks him lightly. “That’s not how it works,” he grumbles and Jaehyun laughs. 

There’s a comfortable silence for a while as they hold each other in their arms under the moonlight and Jaehyun wonders what this means for them, for him, to be held by Death and vice versa. A part of him doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to face the emotions that come with something like this, and that part wins over the other half in his internal battle so he pushes those thoughts away. It doesn’t have to mean anything anyway. He’s lost in thought when Doyoung finally stills and pulls away, looking him in the eye with an emotion he cannot place.

“Jaehyun, I need to tell you something,” he says, tone a complete 180 to how he had sounded just moments before. 

Frowning, Jaehyun looks down at him. “What is it?” He hates how he wants to reach out and smooth those lines on his face away, hates how he doesn’t think he can.

Doyoung sighs. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Jaehyun is worried now, the lines on Doyoung’s face mirrored on his. He steps away when Doyoung releases him, pointing to a log on the edge of the clearing where they can sit - funny, how he’d never noticed it before. They make their way to it, Jaehyun collapsing on it unceremoniously while Doyoung seats himself gently on it, clearly trying to avoid Jaehyun’s gaze.

“What’s going on Doyoung?” he asks after they’ve sat down.

There’s a pause where Doyoung takes a deep breath and then he turns towards Jaehyun, his face stricken with worry and fear for the shortest of seconds before it is hidden beneath an expressionless mask. Jaehyun shivers. 

“Promise me you’ll hear me out,” Doyoung pleads and the worry returns, but only in his voice. “Let me finish what I have to say before you say anything.”

Jaehyun stares wide-eyed for a few seconds before nodding dumbly. He doesn’t know what is happening, why Doyoung is withdrawing into himself all of a sudden.

“Okay,” Doyoung begins, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose. “You know how you asked me about that timer on your wrist?” Jaehyun nods but remains silent. “I said I’d tell you when I could, so I’m going to tell you now. That timer only appears when your soul has been used as part of an exchange or deal with Death. With me. It’s meant to be a countdown until the scheduled moment your soul becomes mine to claim - alive or dead.”

Jaehyun frowns. “But I never made a deal with you, you know that.”

Doyoung gives him a sad smile. “I know, hush. Let me finish. _ You _ never made a deal with me but,” another pause, “your mother did.”

“My _ mother_?” Jaehyun asks, incredulous. “Why would she need to make a deal?”

Doyoung’s expression is unreadable when he replies. “She was dying, Jaehyun.” He holds up a hand to stop Jaehyun from interrupting. “You weren’t around, probably on a mission, but she had the plague and she wasn’t going to make it. She was afraid, asked to cut a deal, and I agreed.”

“So you helped her live, what does that-” Jaehyun breaks off when Doyoung silences him again. 

“Do you remember what I said about balance?” He asks, and Jaehyun nods. “A life for a life, a soul for a soul. In order for her to live, someone else needed to die. I told her it would be the life of someone she loved in order to dissuade her, but she agreed anyway. I’m so sorry, Jaehyun.” Doyoung breaks down, head dropping into his hands, while Jaehyun just stares at him like he’d just spoken in another language.

“Are you saying,” he starts. “That she sold my soul to save hers?”

Doyoung nods, head still buried in his hands as he tries to avoid looking at Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to feel, there was no way this was true, his own _mother _selling her son’s soul, _ his _soul, to save her own. There was no way.

“No,” he says, surprised at the sharpness in his tone except he isn’t really surprised because, underneath the shock and the numbness, there is anger. And he feels it, coursing underneath his skin and through his body like a poison. It bubbles upwards and out of him, coating his words. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do this. Not to me.”

Doyoung looks up aghast. “I’m not- I wouldn’t lie to you! Why would I be lying?”

“I don’t know alright!” Jaehyun yells, and Doyoung flinches. “I don’t know. But you can’t be telling the truth. She wouldn’t do this to me. I’m her son! I’m _ family_.” Jaehyun feels tears, hot and angry trickle down his face, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand. “I don’t believe you.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!” Doyoung is yelling back now, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the clearing. “But I thought you deserved to know. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think she would agree! I didn’t know it would be _ you_.”

“What difference does it make that it was me?” Jaehyun counters angrily. “You didn’t know me then anyway. Why does it matter?”

Doyoung falters, gaping at Jaehyun as he struggles to find the right words to say. “Because I- I don’t-” Doyoung stammers out, eyes wide as he tries to put as much space between himself and Jaehyun as possible but Jaehyun matches his every move

“I get what this is, Doyoung,” Jaehyun spits out, sneering. “You just want what’s owed you. You’re tired of waiting for my timer to run out so you’re just feeding me lies, knowing that I’d- I’d _trust _you. You’re just trying to break me down so that you can take my soul when I’m at my weakest. Well, you know what? You’re wrong, Doyoung. I _ don’t _trust you. And you will _ never _ have my soul.”

Doyoung recoils from Jaehyun as if he’d been slapped in the face, hurt lining his features. “How dare you? How dare you even _think _that I’m doing this because I’m after your soul. News flash, Jung Jaehyun,” he snarls, jabbing a finger in Jaehyun’s chest. “I don’t want your soul. So, keep it, for all I care. Keep doing what you’re doing, keep adding years to your timer, I don’t give a flying fuck. I don’t want it.” He yells and, just as suddenly as his anger had come, he deflates, as if all the fight had been sucked out of his body along with those words. 

He looks up at Jaehyun, hand still on Jaehyun’s chest, and Jaehyun almost wants to back away from the sheer weight of his gaze. “I don’t want it,” he whispers, and suddenly Jaehyun is alone, the only sign that Doyoung had been there is the patch of cold still etched into the skin over his heart where Doyoung’s hand had been. Doyoung’s last words echo into the night, into his mind, and it wraps around something buried deep inside the depths of his subconscious, sinks its teeth into it. He jerks as something flashes in his mind, of whiteness and pain, and a voice, a voice saying ‘I don’t want him’ over and over again, and realisation dawns on him so hard he almost keels over. 

“Doyoung?” he calls out. “Doyoung!” But no one answers save for the wind in the trees and the sounds of the forest. He is alone.

** _Seoul, Korea - 1983 _ **

The sound of an alarm going off jerks Jaehyun out of the daze he had slipped into following his post-workout meal. The sounds of scrambling coming from the rest of agents at the NIS staff canteen fills the air as everyone rushes to get to their closest station. Jaehyun looks around, watching how despite the general sense of urgency in the air, there is no panic - everyone just heading to their assigned stations determinedly. Organised, that’s what everyone always is here, and orderly - everything has a procedure and the procedure is the only way things get done. He sighs, pushing himself up from his seat, thinking about what the standard procedure is for him now, having lived through so many changes and revisions. He passes a junior agent as he heads towards the exit.

“Briefing room, sir,” the young man says and Jaehyun smiles.

“Thanks, Hyuck,” he replies, giving the kid’s hair a good ruffle on his way out. 

When he gets to the briefing room, everything is a lot more hectic - people are running in and out of the room, the group of people over at the radars readers in the corner are all trying to talk over each other, there are people stationed at the rows of computers with headsets on monitoring different channel. But it is the people at the back of the room, on the slightly raised platform where the large, round table is that he is interested in. 

He makes his way to the table carefully, squeezing in between a group of people who are having a heated discussion over a particular reading coming from one of the computers. 

“Chief,” he addresses the man currently pacing back and forth in front of the giant whiteboard that takes up most of the back wall. There are maps pinned to it under magnets along with various other charts and notes scribbled around them. The man in question, one Qian Kun, looks like the human personification of stress - his uniform is half-untucked and his hair looks like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. The ink smudges along the lengths of his arms pin him as the one responsible for the writing on the blackboard. He gives Jaehyun a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the map on the board.

“There’s been an accident,” Kun says without turning back to Jaehyun.

“An accident, sir?”

“What we assume is an accident anyway,” the man, currently poring over various documents at the table, supplies.

At the board Kun sighs, “The Russians said it was an accident, Jungwoo, and an accident it will remain until we discover otherwise.”

“Let me guess,” Jaehyun says, “You want me to check if it really was an accident.”

“Bingo,” Jungwoo says, earning himself a glare from Kun.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” Kun continues, “We need you to find out what exactly happened. Right now, all we know is that a commercial passenger jet flying over Russian airspace has been shot down.”

Jaehyun frowns at him. “And how is that an accident exactly?” Jungwoo directs a pointed glare towards Kun at Jaehyun’s words, which he promptly ignores.

“It is an accident because they say it is one,” Kun exclaims exasperatedly.

“Please do explain the specifics please, Chief Kun,” Jaehyun requests. “What did the Russians say in their telecom exactly?”

“They told us that they had received intel that the plane was some kind of spy craft and were given the green light to shoot it down.”

“What?” Jaehyun asks, incredulous. “So they received intel and they decided to act on it without checking with us? Don’t we have an open communications channel with them?”

“Exactly my point,” Jungwoo comments dryly from where he is still seated at the table.

“Jungwoo, please, just shut up and let me brief Jaehyun or I’m reassigning you to another team,” Kun groans, walking over to the seated agent and smacking on the back of his head.

“You wouldn’t,” Jungwoo replies, smirking. “You need me too much.”

“Don’t even try me,” Kun warns, and Jungwoo shrugs, going back to perusing the ever-increasing pile of documents on the table. 

“Anyway,” Kun continues, “We need you to go in and find out what happened. Whether there was some sort of miscommunication or whether they deliberately shot down one of our aircrafts, and if it was deliberate, why.”

“I am almost 100% certain it was deliberate, sir,” Jaehyun replies. “Our ties with the US do not help our position in this cold war but I will confirm it if you wish, sir.”

“I do, Jaehyun,” Kun says, sighing as he drags a hand roughly down his face. “There were 269 people on that flight, Jaehyun. Regular people, just going about their lives. We owe it to their memory and their families to find out, at least.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Kun answers, nodding. “You’re going wheels up in t-minus 2 hours. This is just standard undercover and recon so pack light. We’ll pick you up 24 hours from the time you land, exfiltration point will be delivered to you closer to the time.”

“Gotcha,” Jaehyun affirms, nodding at Kun who claps him on the shoulder lightly in return.

“Be safe, Jaehyun,” he says.

“When am I not?” he retorts, grinning and Kun just shakes his head as he turns back to the board.

☠︎

Jaehyun leaves the briefing room and heads directly for the locker room. His standard-issue combat boots padding gently against the stone floor. He checks the time, noting that he has just under 2 hours to get packed and geared up for the mission. On his way, he passes by all sorts of people in the corridor, some of them are field agents like him, others are handlers, while others are specialists in specific fields. He watches everyone of them that passes by, trying to match their features with their profession - it’s a game he’s taken to playing with himself recently to add to his regular pastime of people-watching. He figures his whole century’s worth of experience with people would make him a good judge of character but he’s found, so far, that he’s usually wrong as often as he is right. 

He watches as someone he pegged for a handler but turns out to be a medic walks past hurriedly, slipping into the white lab coats most of their medical team wears. He frowns when he sees the person head into the hangar when he realises that they must be sending medical teams out to assist with the rescue and recovery. _ A commercial plane_, he thinks to himself, _ just what kind of-_, he stops his train thought almost immediately. No, they don’t know that it was deliberate _yet_, it could have very well been an accident. Instead, he just shakes his head, as he continues his trek to the field agent locker rooms. _ Humans_, he thinks, and then wonders when he’d started thinking of himself as separate from them. 

When he reaches the locker room, he realises it is empty and comes to the conclusion that he must be the only field agent deployed to look into this situation. He frowns, because, from the way Kun had mentioned it, he would have thought that they’d have deployed more field agents aside from him. _ Maybe they’ve all been assigned to rescue_,’ he thinks as he pulls his shirt off, reaching towards his locker to unlock it. The red numbers on his forearm catch his eye and he feels his heart start to race - just an over until the end of this cycle. He feels nervous, and he doesn’t know why. That is a lie, he does know why, and his heart clenches at the thought that maybe he won’t show up this time. He thinks about the things he’d said the last time they’d met and his stomach churns; he would totally understand if Doyoung hated him for the rest of eternity. 

He grabs his duffel and a set of clothes from the locker, including an extra black shirt for him to change into since he’d been wearing one of his own casual shirts. He grabs some other miscellaneous things too, like his pack of cigarettes, a notepad and pen, a recording device he could use to record audio if he needed, some personal toiletries, a first aid kit, and a pack of his favourite candy. Just in case, he always tells himself. 

He is busy stuffing his extra set of clothing into the duffel bag when he feels that by now all-too-familiar tingle on his right forearm and he sucks in a breath, waiting. He doesn’t know how long he waits, doesn’t know how long he holds his breath, before he hears a quiet set of footsteps come from the showers and head towards him. He freezes, not daring to glance up even as the person comes to a stop right in front of the bench he’s at. There’s a moment where they are both silent, where Jaehyun fixes his gaze on the pair of combat boots (identical to his own as usual) in front of him and doesn’t move for fear that he would startle them.

It is Doyoung that breaks the bubble of silence first with a quiet “hey”. Jaehyun takes a deep breath and looks up. “Hi,” he almost whispers. “You came.” 

“Yeah I-, I guess I did,” Doyoung replies with a small smile before looking away.

“Listen, Doyoung I-,” Jaehyun begins at the same time Doyoung goes, “Jaehyun I’m-” and they’re both left staring awkwardly at each other before Doyoung gestures at Jaehyun.

“You first.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath and looks Doyoung in the eye as steadily as he can, which isn’t much considering he feels like a whole ball of nerves at the moment.

“Doyoung, I’m sorry for what I said the last time. Please know that I didn’t mean most of it. I was hurt and being stupid and in denial so I hurt you. I’m so so sorry.” He wants to reach out, to grab Doyoung’s hand, to do anything that will help to convey just how sorry he really is but he doesn’t know if he should and remains rooted to his spot.

Doyoung’s eyes soften as they meet his and he offers Jaehyun a small smile, it doesn’t really reach his eyes, but Jaehyun will take what he can get. Instead, Doyoung decides to walk around the bench towards him, which makes Jaehyun freeze. He stops in front of Jaehyun and reaches out, slowly, a bit hesitantly, and takes a hold of his hand. He interlaces their fingers and Jaehyun has to do everything he can to not collapse right then and there.

“I’m sorry too, Jaehyun. For everything. For taking the deal and for telling you in the way I did. You see, you were right, I was being selfish. After you got shot, I couldn’t bear the thought of keeping it from you any longer, so I told you. Without taking into account how you would react. For that, I really am sorry. If I hadn’t told you, you would have been happier and-”

“No, no,” Jaehyun interjects, taking hold of his other hand as well. “I’m glad you told me. It might not have been the best thing to find out but you were honest with me, and I’m thankful.”

“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?” Doyoung asks, eyes round and hopeful as he looks up at Jaehyun and Jaehyun’s heart clenches.

“Definitely not,” he answers. “Are you?”

Doyoung finally smiles up at him then, a proper smile, one that reaches all the way up to his eyes and it’s so infectious that Jaehyun can’t help but find himself smiling back. “Definitely not.”

“I’m glad,” Jaehyun whispers.

“Me too.”

“Although,” Jaehyun begins. “I do have a question.”

Doyoung looks at him questioningly, head tilted in an adorably endearing way. “What is it?” He asks.

“It was you, wasn’t it? The night I got shot. You were the one who kept saying ‘I don’t want him’ weren’t you?”

Doyoung frowns at him. “I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night.”

“I barely do, but sometimes bits and pieces of it come back to me.” He doesn’t mention that Doyoung’s voice is the clearest thing he remembers from that night.

“Hmmm,” Doyoung hums, narrowing his eyes at Jaehyun for just a second before conceding. “Yes, it was me.” 

“What- What did you mean?” He asks and Doyoung looks away, biting his lip. When Doyoung looks back at him, his cheeks and ears are tinged a light pink, and he tugs Doyoung down to sit on the bench Jaehyun had been packing on.

“Jaehyun I-,” he begins, flushes, takes a deep breath and then continues. “Jaehyun, when I said I didn’t want your soul the last time we met, I meant it.”

“Oh…” Jaehyun says, trailing off, frowning and Doyoung chuckles.

“Not like that,” he says. “I meant I didn’t want to have to take your soul from you before it is your time, which is what happens when people die because of accidents or other unforeseen circumstances. I didn’t want your soul to come to me because…” He trails off and Jaehyun looks at him questioningly.

“Because that meant you getting hurt, and after seeing you get a shot I realised that… I realised that I didn’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“Oh…” is all Jaehyun can say, and he looks away, flushing the same colour as the tips of Doyoung’s ears.

All of a sudden the grip on Jaehyun’s hand tightens and he turns back to find a very stricken looking Doyoung staring up at him. “I-, I don’t know what it means, Jaehyun. Why I feel this way when it comes to you. Why I worry so much about coming across your soul in the river, when I see so many souls in it every single day. Why you, Jaehyun? I don’t understand, I-”

His next words are cut off by Jaehyun pressing his lips against, soft but quick and Doyoung splutters so hard he nearly falls backwards off the bench.

“What was that?” He yelps, trying to regain his balance.

“You were rambling,” Jaehyun replies, laughing as he pulls Doyoung back upright. “I like you too, by the way, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“Like me t-, what do you mean like me too? When did I say that I liked you?” Doyoung squeaks.

“Do you _ not _ like me?” Jaehyun asks, frowning. “Did I misunderstand? Should I not have-”

“No!” Doyoung exclaims, voice still a shade too high to be normal. “No, you didn’t misunderstand.” He gulps. “I guess… I _ do _ like you.”

Jaehyun smiles then, leaning forward until their noses are pressed against each other. “How very human of you, Doyoung.” He says before connecting their lips once more. This time Doyoung relaxes, hands curling around Jaehyun’s neck as he slots their lips together softly. Doyoung moans softly when Jaehyun nips at his lower lip that Jaehyun can’t help but smile, pulling away from the kiss.

“Was that okay?” He whispers against Doyoung’s lips.

Doyoung hums. “Very,” and pulls him back in for another kiss.

☠︎

Doyoung stays with him until he finishes packing, even going as far as to help him rearrange his clothes so that he has more space for his other items and spare weapons, which makes Jaehyun even more endeared than he already he is. 

He’s busy tucking the last of his weapons into his body holsters when Doyoung walks up to him, a frown creasing his brow.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, snapping his dagger into place before reaching for Doyoung and pulling him closer, a small part of him still can’t believe he gets to do that now.

“You be safe out there, okay? I meant what I said, I don’t want to see your soul coming anywhere near me.”

“Not even this near?” Jaehyun murmurs as he tightens his grip around Doyoung.

Doyoung flushes and smacks him on the chest. “I’m being serious, Jaehyun. Please.”

“I’ll be fine, Doyoung. I promise. This is just recon,” He reassures him, planting a quick kiss on his forehead for good measure.

“You better,” Doyoung grumbles as he fiddles with the multitude of straps Jaehyun has over his chest making Jaehyun laugh.

“Come here,” he whispers, hooking his fingers under Doyoung’s chin and tilting his face up towards him so that he can kiss him one more time. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

☠︎


	2. The Final Tango

** _ Paris, France - Present Day _ **

He sits on a rooftop overlooking the prestigious Hotel Ritz, one of the most expensive hotels in all of France. From his vantage point, he can just about make out the man in that one room overlooking the gardens who has spent the greater part of the afternoon alternating between hanging out on the balcony and pacing the giant suite of a room he is currently occupying. Occasionally, the man can be seen collapsing into the giant king-size bed that takes up a whole wing of the suit and rolling around in it. Part of him wants to know exactly what must be going on through the man’s mind for it to be producing such neurotic behaviour but he figures he will find out soon enough.

He remains on the rooftop even as the sun starts to dip below the horizon, casting the cityscape of Paris into a warm, golden glow. He smiles as the sunset hits him, the warmth of it heating him up just that more and he wishes he could stay on the rooftop for longer but it is almost time, he thinks. He glances back into the man’s room and watches as the man checks his wristwatch before throwing himself out of bed. He pads over to the desk in the opposite corner and dials someone on the hotel phone - must be room service or something seeing as the man has done nothing except stay in his room all day. When that is done, the man heads to the other door in yet another corner of the room (honestly, how many wings does this room have?) and opens it to reveal a rather lavish looking bathroom. He can’t see much into it but he sees enough white marble and gold trimming to know that it must match the interior of the suite.

He is still watching when the man starts to strip, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the chest of drawers at the end of the bed. He lets his eyes rove over the man’s chest, just for a second, allowing himself to appreciate how toned it seems to be, despite not seeing the man take part in any form of exercise the whole afternoon. The man’s shoulders are broad too, and that definitely does not help his case. He only looks away when the man makes to take off his pants, feeling his cheeks burn at the action. He sighs, still determinedly looking anywhere else except for the room, and pulls out the pocket watch he keeps in his breast pocket. It’s almost time.

Standing up from where he is perched on the rooftop, he takes one step away from where he was seated and finds himself in the suite he had been observing all day. He looks around appreciatively, admiring the way the room screams elegance without being gaudy - how the coldness of the marble is countered by the numerous drapes hanging over every entrance-way. Luxurious yet cosy, he concludes. He walks over to where the bed is, looking every bit like it belongs in an 18th-century palace instead of a 21st-century hotel, and seats himself on the end of it with his legs propped up on the chest of drawers. His eyes are trained on the toilet door as he waits for the man to step out.

He sits there for a good ten minutes, plucking at a particularly stubborn piece of string attached to the bed covers before he hears the tell-tale squeak of a tap being shut off. Smiling, he leans back on his hands, crosses his legs and waits. He is not, however, ready for the sight that greets him when the bathroom door opens. The man steps out in nothing but a pair of sweats, towel slung casually around his neck, and hair still dripping. His skin is a little flushed from the hot water but it takes his breath away, and his hands nearly slip from where it is propping him up on the bed. 

“Wow,” he breathes out before cursing himself for letting his body get the better of him. 

The man turns towards him at the sound, not even the least bit surprised to find someone sitting in his previously-empty bed, before offering him a small smile. 

“You’re early,” he comments.

“I always am,” he replies, returning the smile. 

“Hmmm but you’re quite a bit earlier than I was expecting, Doyoung,” the man hums as he towels his hair. “Dinner isn’t even here yet.”

“So it was room service that you called for earlier,” Doyoung notes and the man laughs.

“Were you watching me?” 

“All afternoon,” he admits with zero shame, pushing himself off the bed and walking towards the other man. 

“You do know that’s kinda creepy, don’t you, Doie?” 

Doyoung comes to a stop right in front of him and allows himself to take it all in - the way his sweats sit low on his hips, the way the leftover moisture glistens on his chest, the solidity of his muscles. Doyoung’s heart stutters just a bit as he watches a drop of water makes its way down the man’s torso, and he reaches out to follow the path the drop had taken with the tip of his finger. He hears the man’s breath hitch as his fingers glide over a particularly sensitive area and he looks up to meet his gaze. He allows his finger to trail all the way up until it reaches his face where he brushes aside a few stray drops of water before cupping the man’s cheek gently.

“But I missed you, Jaehyun.” 

He watches as the man sighs and relaxes into the touch, eyes closing for just a second before opening them again, eyes finding him immediately.

“I missed you too, Doyoung.”

They fall into each other then, hands reaching and wrapping around each other, entangling in each other’s hair. Their lips meet and Doyoung shivers as Jaehyun nips at his lip and licks into his mouth, backing him up against the bed before pushing him onto it. Jaehyun falls on top of him and he groans at the weight but is distracted when Jaehyun starts trailing kisses down his neck, along with occasional nip here and there. Doyoung moans and is just about to pull him back up to his lips when the doorbell goes off, and they both freeze. They stare at each other for the longest second before Jaehyun all but jumps off him to answer the door. 

He is greeted by a man in a pristine uniform, all white and beige to match the hotel, along with several carts laden with covered dishes. Jaehyun grins sheepishly at the guy, who remains expressionless, before gesturing for him to bring the food. The man says nothing the entire time he unloads the dishes onto the giant table in the far corner of the room before bowing one last time at Jaehyun before leaving. 

Doyoung remains unmoving on the bed until he hears the door click shut and then he is pushing himself off the bed and walking towards Jaehyun. 

“Sorry,” he whispers as he comes up beside him at the table. “I… uh… got carried away.”

Jaehyun laughs, reaching down to entangle their fingers. “We both did. It was a good way to pass the time till dinner got here though.”

Doyoung flushes and Jaehyun laughs, leading him around the table to the seats at the other end where the food is already laid out and waiting. 

“I know you don’t need to eat,” Jaehyun begins. “But, will you have dinner with me?” The way that Jaehyun asks, all earnest and eager, makes something in Doyoung burst and he nods, smiling.

“Of course,” he answers. “And I can eat, it just does nothing for me in the way of sustenance. But, I _ will _ eat with you.” He leans up and presses his lips to Jaehyun’s briefly, chaste. “You didn’t need to ask.”

Jaehyun releases his hand to wrap his arm around Doyoung’s waist, pulling him closer. “But I wanted to,” he hums, smiling against his lips and Doyoung nearly caves, nearly gives in to the need to press back into Jaehyun but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls away with a laugh.

“Okay, we need to stop or the food will go cold.” He ignores the way his heart clenches when Jaehyun pouts and shoves the disgruntled man into the closest chair. “Don’t look at me like that, this was your idea.”

This time it is Jaehyun who laughs. “Fine, fine. We’ll have dinner first. I kinda have something I want to tell you anyway.”

Doyoung frowns at him. “What is it?”

But Jaehyun just shakes his head, directing his attention back to the array of dishes in front of him. “Eat first, Doyoung. We’ll talk later.”

“Fine,” he sighs, turning back towards the table. It is only then that he notices just how much food Jaehyun had ordered. It looks like he had ordered everything on the menu, from soups and salads to burgers, pizzas and even various kinds of pasta. At the far end of the table, he sees dishes that are still covered, which he assumes to be dinner. His jaw drops and he turns back to Jaehyun, who is casually pouring them glasses of red wine.

“Holy shit, Jaehyun,” he breathes. “Are you looking to feed an army? Last I checked it was just the two of us here, and I don’t even _ need _ to eat.”

Jaehyun’s pout returns and Doyoung finds his heart softening immediately. “But it’s our first dinner together, and the first time I’m not on a mission.” He lowers his head a fraction and Doyoung immediately wants to reach for him and press soft kisses into every inch of his face. “I just wanted it to be special.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says, reaching for Jaehyun’s hand. “I just meant it’s a _ lot _ of food, which must have also cost you a fortune.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “It’s fine. You know I make a lot of money from my job anyway.”

“I know, Jaehyun. I’m just saying you didn’t have to. You know I’m just happy to be here with you.” He doesn’t miss the way Jaehyun’s lips twitch upwards at his words so he continues. “But I love it anyway, okay?”

“You do?” Jaehyun asks, careful, and Doyoung beams at him.

“I do.” He affirms. “Now let’s see how much of this we can try before we explode.” The laugh Jaehyun lets out is a sound Doyoung thinks he can listen to for the rest of his eternity.

☠

Half an hour, countless dishes and two glasses of wine each later, Jaehyun and Doyoung lie cuddled up on the couch, the throw from the bed draped over them. Doyoung has his feet in Jaehyun’s lap and his head on Jaehyun shoulder, and it’s probably the happiest he’s ever been in, well, ever. Jaehyun’s fingers are carding gently through his hair and he can feel his eyes already start to drift shut.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet, there’s still something I want to tell you,” Jaehyun whispers, lips brushing gently against the curve of his ear.

Doyoung’s eyes remain shut but he hums in acknowledgement. “What is it?”

He feels Jaehyun moves his fingers from his hair, feels him trace the lines of his face before reaching to cup his cheek. “You’ll need to have your eyes open for this one, Doie.”

Doyoung’s eyes flutter open to meet Jaehyun’s, and he frowns when he notices Jaehyun’s serious expression. “What is it?” He repeats.

Slowly, Jaehyun removes his hand from Doyoung’s cheek and brings it between them. Doyoung follows the movement and looks down at the arm Jaehyun is holding in front of him. The red markings of his timer stand out against his pale skin but it takes Doyoung another second to realise what exactly Jaehyun is trying to show him - there are no other numbers. Where the numbers to be added to his next cycle usually are, there is only bare skin, perfectly unblemished. 

Doyoung sucks in a breath and looks back at Jaehyun, who is looking at him with nervous anticipation. “Your-, your timer. There are no new numbers.”

When Jaehyun nods, Doyoung’s heart clenches. “Why?” 

“I’m tired, Doyoung. No human should live as long as I have lived, you know this.” And Doyoung does know, he can see it when he looks at Jaehyun and then looks deeper, at his soul. He can see where its edges have begun to fray, how the century he’s spent killing people to live has started to take a toll on his soul. He sees it, and he understands, but that doesn’t make things easier.

“I know,” he answers, fingers reaching out trace absentmindedly at the red on his arm. “Are you sure, though? I mean, this is your soul and-”

“My soul,” Jaehyun interrupts, as he reaches for Doyoung, tilting his chin gently so that their gazes meet, “has been yours for a long time, Doyoung.”

Doyoung’s feels like his heart has been compressed into a bomb, bound to explode any second, and he freezes for a split second before surging forward and capturing Jaehyun’s lips with his.

“You’re sure?” he asks again when they finally break apart for air.

“I’m sure, Doyoung.” Jaehyun murmurs against his lips. He presses another soft kiss to Doyoung’s lips. “Will you take me home tonight, Doyoung?”

Doyoung smiles and nods. “I will.” Behind him, he can feel the exact moment Jaehyun’s timer hits zero, and he leans forward so that their lips are barely touching. 

“Let’s go home, Jaehyun.”

\---THE END---

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've finally made it to the end, thank you so so so much for reading this!♡ This epilogue was how I originally planned for this to end (as a one shot) but with the way the main bit ended, I felt like this kinda worked better. But yes, this is how it's supposed to end!
> 
> ALSO this IS a happy ending. Jaehyun dies, yes, but also not really. He lives on as Death's consort, and they can finally be together for eternity. In my head, Jaehyun occasionally helps Doyoung with his job as Death, ferrying souls etc. and together they remain til the end of time :)
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading this, from the bottom of my heart ♡

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it to this point, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SITTING THROUGH ALL OF THAT!♡
> 
> This fic was honestly a HUGE challenge to write because I had such bad writer's block when it came to this fic that it literally felt like I was wringing the story out from my pores or something. So if you did like (or found it at least halfway decent) I officially love you 3000. 
> 
> If you are wondering, there WILL be an EPILOGUE to this - to be released within the next few days - so stay tuned!
> 
> **⭐︎Now, onto fic things!⭐︎**
> 
> First things first, I just want you all to know that the kids/agents getting drunk prior to the signing in 1945 are Xiaojun, Lucas and Yangyang. They aren't mentioned explicitly but that's who I saw in my head while writing this, so there you go. Also, messenger boy is Jeno.
> 
> SECOND, and most importantly, all events/years mentioned in this story are based off significant events in history. Of course, names and some places have been adapted to suit the story better but majority of them are based of real life events in history. Here's the list (if you want)!
> 
> ****  
HISTORICAL EVENTS LIST  

> 
> 1891 - Korea was constantly under threat of being controlled by the Chinese due to a lot of power struggles between the two countries during the time.  
1927 - Chiang Kai-Shek Breaks With Communists  
1945 - The signing of Japan's surrender after WWII (actually takes place on a ship but I didn't want it to be a ship lol)  
1960 - Sino-Soviet Communism Split  
1983 - A Korean airliner actually got shot down by Russia, who claimed the plane was running a spy mission
> 
> And that's a wrap folks.
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading this ♡
> 
> ❆ [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_)  
❆ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_)


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